Hah! Our afterlife is the most hilarious bushwa, dearest
by Jadeile
Summary: This is not a stand-alone story! This is a oneshot collection in the universe of "Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife". Read the main story first. I gave my readers a chance to throw Radiohusk prompts at me, and had the Afterlife-verse as an option to set the stories in. Everyone liked that, so this fic is now a thing. Enjoy the extra mischief from these two dorks!
1. Animal traits

A/N:

There was not enough room in the summary to say this: the prompts were sent to my writing tumblr as asks. I can't directly link it here, but you can find the link in my profile. Who knows, there may be new chances in the future.

Prompt by Anon:  
Alastor and Husk contemplate animal-themed sinners and their respective animal stereotypes, while seeing if Vaggie, a moth demon, is attracted to bright lights.

Also, a reminder: sheik is 20s for approximately "hot boyfriend". The boys are old trolls.

This chapter happens after they got together but before they leave the hotel.

Oh! Husk calls Vaggie Vagatha because while he may refer to people with their nicknames in his speech, he thinks of them with their full names. Because reasons XD; You'll see that Alastor is certainly not on the same boat with that in another chapter.

* * *

Having Alastor wait for him to be done with work in order to spend time with him was the best fucking thing in the entire goddamn world in Husk's opinion. It hadn't been that long ago that Husk had been hopelessly pining for him and wishing for the tiniest shred of attention in his general direction, yet here he was now: loading the dishwasher haphazardly while Alastor sat on a bar stool and… apparently idly ate pure salt from the container that Husk kept around for the drinks that required salt in them.

Husk looked away, blinked a couple of times, and then looked again. Yep, Alastor was humming to himself, licking at his index finger, dipping it in the salt, and then licking the salt off before repeating the process.

What the actual fuck?

"Al? What the hell are you doing?" he asked incredulously, which made Alastor pause mid-lick and give Husk a confused look. It was cute as fuck and made Husk want to confess his love for this idiot all over again. But instead he decided to correct his question before Alastor could be a smartass about it. "Actually no, I can see what you're doing. The real question is why the fuck are you eating salt right now?"

Alastor finished the lick and wiped the finger with an embroidered handkerchief like a prissy little princess before putting his glove back on. Husk was beyond questioning any of that by now; he was more than used to it. Unlike the salt eating.

"It's a craving I've occasionally had ever since I died and found myself in the form of a deer", Alastor said, closed the salt container, and pushed it in Husk's direction.

Husk contemplated the now rather unhygienic salt within, but ultimately shrugged and put the container away as it was; what the others didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Alastor didn't have rabies or anything, so what the fuck ever.

"I see", he said, considering the information. Turned out one could still learn new things about their sheik even after knowing the guy for four decades. He had already been aware of a few deer traits, such as Alastor occasionally shredding door frames by rubbing his antlers on them and his adorably idiotic need to jump over fences if he wasn't distracted from their existence quickly enough, but this was a new one.

Husk himself was sick and tired of his own fucking cat habits, to be honest. Fine, he had learned to like his own purring after decades of Alastor being absolutely smitten with said sound and not being shy about letting Husk know. And okay, Alastor's magic made replacing his door frames after he scratched them to splinters easy, especially since they kind of shared that bad habit and he completely understood it. But he loathed how he sometimes automatically licked his paw if it got filthy, or how he would run to a window and fucking chirp at things if they moved past it quickly and triggered his hunting instinct. Alastor had busted a lung laughing the first time he witnessed that, and Husk hadn't talked to him for almost two weeks when he purposefully triggered that soon afterwards.

Being a fucking animal was one of the worst things in his afterlife.

"Husker?" Alastor asked after a moment of silence that had only been broken by the occasional clink of glass as Husk put the last of the dishes in the washer. He hummed questioningly while finishing his job. "Vaggie is a moth, isn't she?"

"Yeah, I believe so", Husk said, and turned the dishwasher on. Finally done and free for the night, he walked over to Alastor. Alastor, who had a mischievous grin on his face and was looking at Husk with positively sparkling eyes.

That could be an extremely bad sign, or a really good one.

"...Why do you ask?"

ooooo

"It was right here, in this hallway", Husk said with a bored voice, and led Vagatha around a corner to one of the less used parts of the hotel. He gestured towards a completely randomly picked painting, making her walk over to it with a searching expression. "That's roughly where I smelled it."

"I don't smell anything, but maybe behind the pain-", she started saying, but then jumped in fright as suddenly all of the lights nearby turned off at once, leaving the pair in almost complete darkness. Husk smirked. "Hey! What-"

And then a single, small, bright light appeared at the end of the hallway. Husk squinted at Vagatha, trying to quickly adjust his vision to the rapid changes in light, and… Yes! Her single working eye was glued to the light and her pupil was blown wide as she started walking towards it in a daze.

Husk heard a snicker in the dark, and snorted in amusement.

Alastor waited until Vagatha had reached the light and was just about to touch it with outstretched fingers, before making it disappear and summoning another one on a different spot.

She blinked a few times in confusion, and then turned to walk towards the new light like a zombie.

Alastor started giggling, and Husk tried to stifle his own chuckles. Vagatha was going to murder them both once she snapped out of it, but for now it was completely fucking worth it.

They managed to keep her distracted for two more lights before Alastor made a mistake and summoned the next light on her blind side, which meant she couldn't focus on it fast enough for the ruse to keep working.

Her murderous eye turned to the direction of Husk's laughter, and a spear was summoned.

"Charlie will never find your bodies!"

Alastor grabbed a hold of his paw, and they ran for their afterlives while cackling and dodging weapons from an angry moth.

Now, Alastor could have magicked them away at any time, but that wouldn't have been half as fucking hilarious, now would it?

Completely. Fucking. Worth it.


	2. The nightmare

A/N:

Prompt by Deskdraik:  
A nightmare of Alastor where Husk did not say goodbye on the day of extermination, better, to dream of what would have happened if Husk had not said goodbye to him on the day of extermination. wake up very agitated.

This chapter happens after they got together but before they leave the hotel. Somewhere in the early stages of their relationship.

TRIGGER WARNING: you know, the whole suicide thing Husk had going on.

* * *

Alastor hummed to himself as he approached the room where he knew the soon-to-be-erased fellow was hiding. The pathetic excuse of a sinner was certainly quite ignorant of his fate, thinking he was as safe and sound as he had been year after year in his little hidey-hole. Hah, not this year. Not after that stupid stunt on the last extermination day, the one that had cost Alastor two of his subordinates. No, today was going to be the last day of that fool's miserable existence, and Alastor was going to watch his soul be torn from his body with much glee.

Or that had been the plan anyway. He had a niggling feeling it wasn't going to happen. Something much more important would prevent him from putting his plan into action. What, he didn't know, but he knew he would find out soon. The dread was building in the pit of his stomach and it would explode into a moment of absolute terror as soon as he walked past that painting on the wall. He knew that without a single doubt.

He stopped for a second, waiting for the feeling of déjà-vu to pass, before continuing his humming and striding forward again, now with an urgency in his steps despite being back on the script.

He passed by the abstract painting of questionable taste, and continued towards the door. However, his steps became hesitant the closer he got. The more time he wasted.

Something was off. Missing. Something was supposed to happen right after he passed that awful painting. He was not supposed to reach the door.

He stopped walking again and looked at his microphone. He was supposed to have heard something. Not necessarily from the microphone, but it had to do with his abilities.

Someone had been supposed to contact him.

Wait.

Only two people knew he could be contacted like that. Rosie and Husker.

Husker.

And there was the terror. The absolute, heart-stopping, world-shattering, cold dread that made his limbs feel like lead and his mind scream at him to act, and do it before it was too late. Now! NOW! NOW DAMN IT!

He vanished from the spot and appeared in a familiar pub, facing the jukebox.

This was the part where his terror was supposed to melt into relief, and then turn into a jumbled mess of anger and longing and the need to shake Husker until he stopped being an absolute moron for one single day.

But Husker wasn't there.

He wasn't practically hugging the jukebox in order to stay standing in his inebriated state, his back towards Alastor, his wings and ears drooping and hat askew and his frame shaking with sadness and possibly fear. He didn't take a few seconds – just enough for Alastor's emotions and heartbeat to calm down to something more manageable – of just standing there before turning around and crashing into Alastor's waiting arms.

He was simply no longer there.

Alastor's heart dropped and his breath got stuck in his throat. No.

He whirled around and his eyes locked on the open door. A door that led outside to the chaotic angelic massacre.

He ran. Right out of the door, uncaring of what might happen to him when he went out.

And there, right outside of the pub, stood Husker. His wings and tail were practically sweeping the ground, they hung so low. He was staring forward with completely emotionless eyes that lacked their usual spark. Dull. Empty.

In front of him stood an exterminator. It wore a mask that had Alastor's own grin on it, the very same one he saw in the mirror every morning. In its hands it held a very familiar rifle; the one that had been the last thing Alastor saw before landing in Hell. The muzzle was pointing right between Husker's eyes.

Said eyes turned towards Alastor and nothing about the expression or lack-there-of in them changed. Unfeeling.

"Husk-!"

An ear-deafening BANG and Husker's body arched backwards, droplets of red suspended in the air.

The world shattered into a million sharp pieces.

ooooo

Alastor's eyes flew open and he gasped for breath, heart racing and sweat making his pajamas stick to his body. He panted, feeling like he couldn't get any air into his lungs, and stared ahead into the darkness of his room, casting faint red light with his eyes wherever he looked. He was at the hotel. This was his room and it looked the same it always did. Nothing was amiss.

A dream. A nightmare.

It wasn't real. That's not what had actually happened. Husker had called him and he had arrived in time. Husker hadn't been erased. He was fine.

Right?

Alastor buried his face in his hands and tried to get a grip. Tried to turn his frightened grimace into a presentable smile.

Husker was fine. It had been thirty years. This wasn't the first time he had had this nightmare. Husker had been fine every time. Checking on him month after year after decade was ridiculous.

...He would still check this time too. Not checking wasn't an option. Husker never knew when he did that anyway. When Husker slept, he was completely oblivious to the world around him. He slept like the dead.

...Bad comparison.

Alastor took a few deep breaths to regain at least some of his composure, and got out of the bed. He eyed his clothes for a moment, knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep anyway, but decided against getting dressed. He could do that once he knew without a single baseless doubt that Husker was alive.

He had to know first.

Mind made up, he silently appeared in Husker's room.

And there he was. Laying on his back with one wing splayed open and the other neatly folded to his side. His thin blanket was only covering his legs, which was typical as his fur made it too hot for him to tolerate it for an entire night most of the time. He was snoring softly, his chest rising and falling reassuringly as he breathed.

Alastor's tense muscles relaxed and the anxious knot in the pit of his stomach loosened.

Husker was fine. He was safe, not dead, not erased, sleeping peacefully. Like he should be. Like he needed to be. Because he was not allowed to leave Alastor.

He wanted to climb into the bed, gather Husker into his arms, and hold him tightly against his chest in order to make sure he was real, he was there, he was still warm and breathing and not dead in any capacity. But he couldn't. Husker would ask him awkward questions if he just suddenly cuddled up to him in the middle of the night, and he didn't want to give any answers.

…

He slowly realized that there might not be any questions asked this time. Husker was his sheik now. He was not only allowed to spend the night with him, but it was encouraged. Him showing up wouldn't be seen as odd.

He could have this.

Alastor's smile finally felt natural on his face as he climbed into the bed and glued himself to Husker's warm, furry side, and nuzzled his face against his cheek.

"Mmh? Oh… Al..." Husker mumbled, and wrapped an arm loosely around him before sighing and going back to sleep, now with a small upturn on his lips.

Alastor closed his eyes and petted Husker's chest, listening to the slowly starting purrs with his own smile widening and his heartbeat calming down. It was like Husker's presence was… a cooling balm applied over a fresh burn. Soothing, relieving, gentle.

This contentedness, being allowed to seek the other out when he needed or just wanted him, this feeling of belonging, acceptance and safety. Everything Husker had effortlessly provided to him for decades, probably without even realizing it.

He didn't need the metaphorical fireworks he had heard about. The feeling of his heart being on fire like certain songs led him to believe was supposed to happen. The potentially real physical reaction where your partner made your knees feel weak. The feeling Husk had mentioned once where you just look at the other and somehow feel more complete. No.

This was more than enough.

With Husker by his side, warm and soft and purring and steady, he knew the nightmare wouldn't be able to reach him again tonight, even if he fell asleep.


	3. Fish keeping

A/N:

Prompt by Kitsushouten:  
Charlie wants an aquarium in the hotel lobby. [Character] is surprised that [other character] knows so much about fish keeping.

This chapter, too, happens after they got together but before they leave the hotel.

Husk thinks of Charlie by her nickname mostly because I'm too lazy to go and edit her name to Charlotte in every instance it's used in Afterlife XD I mean, err, she's... so adamant about not being called Charlotte... that Husk totally respects her decision! Yes, that's canon now.

* * *

This was the most pointless meeting Husk had ever been to. Why was he wasting his time sitting here instead of doing literally anything else again?

Charlie was enthusiastically pointing at various details in a drawing of the hotel lobby with a giant aquarium on it – obviously drawn by Niffty, judging from the very distinctive style of it. She seemed to have everything planned out, except for the fact that none of it was going to be working in practice.

Husk rolled his eyes and leaned towards Alastor, who was naturally sitting next to him – he had even begun the meeting by scooting their chairs closer because he was feeling clingy today, and Husk's tail may have looped itself around Alastor's ankle to accommodate that.

"This is going to be a fucking mess", he whispered, once he had Alastor's attention. "Is she serious about the clownfishes and the butterfly fishes? She's clearly planning a freshwater tank, so she'll have some nice, bloated fishes floating belly up in no fucking time. Or exploding, even."

Alastor turned to look at him with a surprised, but intrigued smile. "Exploding?"

Husk huffed. "Figures you'd like that part. Yeah, them fuckers will absorb the non-salty water around them and it'll be bloated fish guts galore when their insides can no longer fit within their scale suits."

Alastor looked downright excited now, and his hand squeezed Husk's knee under the table. "You're not allowed to warn her! I want to see that!"

"Keep your voice down, then", Husk said, and rolled his eyes. He placed his paw on top of Alastor's hand and laced their fingers together. "She'll hear- Huh, hold that thought."

Husk turned his attention back to Charlie's babbling when she mentioned another spectacularly stupid idea. He wondered if he had some kind of a moral obligation to pipe up at this point or if being in Hell gave him a free pass to turn a blind eye. ...The latter, surely. He turned back to Alastor with a small smirk.

"I have more good news for you", he whispered, and Alastor let out an excited little noise that made Husk want to kiss the mouth it came from. Maybe he'd be permitted to do that later; Alastor was certainly clingy enough today to probably tolerate it. "She's getting Oscar fishes. You'd get along with those assholes, as they like eating other fish. Hah, her fucking Neon Tetras will disappear before she can blink."

Alastor's face was filled with glee and he leaned against Husk's shoulder briefly before bouncing back up to a more alert looking position. "I'm liking this aquarium idea more and more, thanks to your information! I didn't know you knew this much about fish keeping."

"We had a bunch of aquariums at the casino I grew up in", Husk said smugly. "I did my share taking care of them."

Alastor opened his mouth to reply when suddenly a dagger embedded itself on the table in front of them. They both startled and turned to look at a glaring Vagatha.

"Stop flirting and pay attention!" she said, and narrowed her eyes. "Especially you, Alastor. We'll need your help to make this happen."

Husk and Alastor looked at each other. Husk raised an eyebrow and Alastor's grin sharpened.

Once the aquarium was up and the saltwater fish started exploding, Alastor off-handedly blamed it on Vagatha being careless on her cleaning turn and poisoning the water. Yes, they should absolutely get a new batch of the same fishes, she just needed to learn to be more careful, that's all. Oh, such a mystery that the new fishes exploded, too. Whatever could have gone wrong this time?

After the clownfishes and the butterfly fishes were abandoned as an idea, Husk suggested to Charlie that they should buy an Arowana, and to get "a big one, that's a sign of them being healthy". Needless to say, most of the rest of the fishes disappeared in short order, much quicker than they had already been mysteriously vanishing.

Eventually the girls finally figured it all out and Vagatha went on a warpath. Husk wasn't certain if the struggle to get the bubblegums out of his fur was worth it or not, but at least Alastor looked damn handsome with bright orange hair and ears for a couple of weeks.


	4. Language barrier

A/N: Prompt by Deskdraik:  
well, I need a multilingual Husk, in which Alastor wants information of a guy for a revenge, and Husk is the type that can do it.

This is set after they leave the hotel, but before Alastor proposes. Yes, despite the fact that he calls Husk his husband here; we already know that he did that for a while before remembering that one needed to be married for the term to be legit.

* * *

Alastor squinted his eyes at the bound stork demon in front of him in frustration. No matter what he did or said, the damned critter refused to talk. Or so he had thought for the first hour of torture, until the squirming sinner finally started singing. However, unfortunately for him, it was in a language he couldn't understand and didn't recognize. Not that he was very well versed in the art of languages, but at least he could have worked with French, and taken a stab at the languages that were close to it. But no. Gibberish. Absolute gibberish.

He couldn't torture information out of someone he couldn't understand. Or he could, but it would be more for the fun of it than of any actual use, and he had stopped having fun approximately five minutes ago, when he finally accepted that this sinner was more than willing to talk, but simply couldn't speak any language he could understand. That knowledge certainly worked wonders in killing the mood.

Pardon his lack of manners, but this was complete bushwa. This was Hell. Everyone who landed here was gifted with the ability to speak the common Devilish, and thus everyone understood one another as long as they didn't purposefully speak another language.

Except for, apparently, this loathsome waste of space. What was up with that? Why was this sinner unable to speak anything other than-

Wait.

Oh. Oh, he got it.

Alastor yanked the shaking stork closer by one of the hooks attached to her skin, making her shriek in pain and beg in whatever that language was.

"Oh, do be quiet, dear. I'm quite tired of my inability to understand you", Alastor said with a sharp grin, and grabbed a rough hold of her beak. He wrenched her jaw open and pulled at her tongue to have a look at the back of it. There. A sigil that rendered her unable to speak anything other than her mother-tongue.

He sighed in frustration and let her drop to the floor without a care.

Sigils like that could only be removed by cutting out the tongue. That would render her completely incapable of speech for as long as it took for the muscle to grow back, and Alastor knew from experience – a fond memory, that – that it took anywhere from three days to a week for that to be accomplished.

He didn't want to wait for a week; he had a revenge to exact. So, he had to work around this.

He tapped his chin with a finger while he thought.

He needed someone who spoke that language, whatever it was. But who? It was not Spanish or Italian, he knew that much, so that rendered a couple of his… acquaintances useless. It was not Russian, he had heard Husker-

Hold on. Husker.

His wonderful husband spoke multiple different languages! Alastor honestly didn't know how many or what all of the languages were, other than Russian, Italian and Spanish – Russian was very prominent on Husker's book collection, and the other two Alastor could recognize when the absolutely hilarious multilingual bouts of swearing happened at times. He also knew Husker was learning French because he was the sweetest, most adorable darling who wanted to understand Alastor at all times.

Alastor took a moment to smile fondly at the memory of Husker working through a French learning exercise book with a look of total concentration while his coffee got cold on the side of the table.

Yes, he needed Husker here. Not only would be probably recognize the language, but there was a good chance he also spoke it. That, and now that Alastor had thought of him, he really craved some warm cuddles to make up for the now lukewarm torture.

He brought his microphone near his mouth and mentally switched his channel to the familiar frequency of Husker's home radio. "Husker, my sweetheart? Are you busy?"

It didn't take long for the answer to be heard; out loud from the microphone, since he wished it so.

"_Not particularly, no. Why?_"

Alastor's grin widened in anticipation. "Swell! You'll see!"

He snapped his fingers and his dearest kitty cat appeared by his side. He wasted no time wrapping both arms tightly around Husker's fluffy shoulders and nuzzled the side of his soft ear. Now this was more like it.

Husker tensed at first – poor dear may not have expected to be transported – but then relaxed and leaned into the embrace. Alastor's smile widened and he sighed in contentment. Warm and soft, just how he liked it.

And then Husker tensed up again. "What the- Al, what the hell is this? Who is that? What the fuck?"

Oh. Right. The worthless critter was still there and this wasn't actually about cuddles. Although if she cooperated, this could very well be both a cuddling and an interrogation session. Husker could talk and cuddle at the same time as long as the silly stork didn't force Alastor to bring the pain again. Husker didn't like that kind of a thing much, which was truly a shame as a pinch of screaming and sobbing would have really made the moment.

"She's nobody important", Alastor answered, and smoothed Husker's chest fur idly. "She does, however, have information I want, but she's currently unable to speak any languages I can understand. I was hoping you might be able to help me out, ma moitié multilingue."

Husker was quiet for a moment, but at least the worst of the tension left. Alastor considered summoning a couch for them to get comfortable on when Husker interrupted his thought-process.

"Okay, three things. Firstly, what language does she speak? Secondly, could you make her… less fucking disturbing? That sight is really starting to turn my fucking stomach, and you're clearly no longer interested. Thirdly, I'm not drunk enough for this bullshit."

Alastor rolled his eyes and summoned a folding partition screen to separate the two of them from his victim. He also summoned a couch and started tugging Husker in its direction. "I don't know. It seems she might understand English even though she can't speak it, so just ask her."

Husker groaned, but let Alastor guide him to sit down anyway, and accepted the bottle of strong double IPA. "Hey bitch! Say something!"

His interrogation methods left a lot to be desired, but Alastor supposed he could always make the hooks pull her into every which direction again if necessary, although Husker would probably disagree with it.

Thankfully, she answered in hesitant gibberish, and from the way Husker's ears perked up he either understood or at least recognized it. Excellent!

"Mandarin, huh?" Husker said, wrapped an arm around Alastor, and took a drink. "I can work with this. Tell me, Al, what do you want to know?"

Alastor grinned and made himself comfortable at Husker's side. Finally, things were working out.

* * *

A/N: Ma moitié multilingue = my multilingual other half.


	5. Therapy cuddles

A/N: Prompt by Cyberneticfire:  
Might I ask for an angsty drabble? So maybe a fic of Alastor being hurt and Husk comforting him or of him struggling with his emotions? You can physically harm them in the fic or not- I'll leave that bit up to you! So hurt/comfort would be fine!

No physical hurt, but you're certainly getting emotional hurt! : D

This chapter happens about a month after chapter 10 of Afterlife and chapter 3 of Fine, jackass! So, after Husk tried to go out to see the angels ;) (And for a proper resolution to this, see chapter 2 of this fic!)

Why yes, I'm going to keep twisting this particular knife in Alastor's heart for all its worth until someone stops me~

* * *

Husk had just stuffed a spoonful of yesterday's warmed up borscht into his mouth when he heard the distinctive clip-clop of Alastor's shoes in his living room. Huh, he was early today. It was his visiting day, but he didn't usually show up until sometime after Husk had eaten his breakfast, or gotten over the worst of his hangover, whichever applied that day.

"Husker?"

"In the kitchen", he answered, not giving a damn about the fact that he was speaking with his mouth full. He made an effort to not do that when he was having a meal with Alastor, but as the prissy asshole was not currently sitting across from him, he didn't feel like putting in the effort.

He heard faint rustling, then soft footsteps, and finally Alastor walked into the kitchen. He had lost his coat, gloves, and shoes. Okay then, so they were staying in today. Fine with him.

"I require cuddles", Alastor said with no preamble whatsoever. His smile was the neutral kind, but looked a little off, and his eyes shone brighter than normally. The red shine highlighted the tired lines under Alastor's eyes; lines that weren't usually there.

Husk frowned, immediately concerned. Yes, Alastor was entitled to one cuddle session a week – he also tried to trick, bribe, and guilt-trip Husk into additional cuddles if he used his privilege early in the week and didn't want to wait until the next Monday at the earliest for more – and this week's cuddles hadn't been claimed yet. But usually he at least worked his way up to it naturally, and was more cheerful about the prospect. Now he seemed… desperate for it. Like he was barely holding back from simply taking what he wanted without waiting for Husk's approval, and not even in the usual playful way he did that – because, believe it or not, there was actually a difference there.

"...Sure, after I'm done eating", Husk answered slowly. "You could brew some coffee if you want to. You look tired."

Alastor shook his head, and took a seat across from Husk, fixing his shining eyes at him. He looked worse up close. "No thank you, I'm good."

Okay, the warning bells were loud as fuck now. Alastor was always down for coffee. Since he wasn't now, he was either dying or he had already drank as much as he could stomach.

...Nightmares and staying up all night, maybe? If that was the case, Husk had an educated guess on what they were about. Needless to say, the guilt was intense.

Husk ate his soup very damn fast, more unnerved with every moment passed in silence instead of Alastor's ceaseless babbling, and left his dishes in the sink. Alastor grabbed his paw the moment he turned around and pulled him to the living room. Husk let Alastor maneuver him as he liked, and the end result was Husk sitting on the couch with Alastor sitting sideways on his lap and holding onto him with both arms like a limpet, his face tucked into the crook of Husk's neck. Husk's arms had been arranged to loop around Alastor's back, with the quiet instructions to "hold tightly and stroke". Which Husk did. Of course he did.

This would have been guiltily enjoyable and probably would have made Husk really fucking flustered under less eerie circumstances, but as it was, Alastor was emitting a low white noise while being otherwise quiet, and he was completely still except for his breathing – no petting, no scratching, no fidgeting, no anything. It was, frankly put, creepy and worrisome as fuck. Hell, this was the second time Alastor had assumed a position like this instead of acting like Husk was a domestic cat and making him lie on his lap, and the previous occasion had been a week after Husk's... stunt with the angels. That one had been happy cuddle times, though, while this one...

Perhaps Alastor hadn't actually been joking about the therapy cuddling. Maybe the weekly cuddles really were about being comforted and not just him using the scare as an excuse to gain free access to Husk's fur. ...If two months didn't seem to be enough when the time came to stop, Husk could pretend to not realize it had been too long for another month.

Husk stroked Alastor's back quietly for who knows how fucking long, and then Alastor finally broke the silence.

"Would you really have walked out?"

Ouch. Yeah, he didn't need Alastor to elaborate to know what he was referring to, and it proved his earlier guess right. Damn it, he didn't want to talk about it at all. But with Alastor being like this...

Should he tell a white lie and claim that he probably wouldn't have? It might make Alastor feel better and help with the obvious anguish. But it would be a lie, and Alastor might catch up on it and feel worse. Damn it, he was not fit to be anyone's fucking therapist! Especially when he was the source of the damn anxiety in the first place!

"I don't know", he settled for. "I meant to, but who knows if I would have had the resolution to go through with it when I reached the door. It was in the spur of the moment decision and those are unpredictable."

At least that was actually true, while not being too alarming. Maybe.

Silence. The white noise quieted as well. At least that was usually a good sign, as he'd come to learn that the white noise was definitely a bad thing.

The silence stretched for a painfully long moment, but then Alastor begun scratching the back of Husk's neck and relaxed a little.

"Alright."

Husk didn't know if that had been the right thing to say or not, but the cuddling was less tense afterwards and Alastor started talking his usual nonsense eventually. So he tentatively assumed he at least hadn't made it worse.


	6. Apathy

A/N: Prompt by... my brain. I just found myself writing this at one point and who am I to tell myself no when I'm given a good thing? We'll get back to actual prompts by you guise on the next chapter, I promise.

This chapter happens after they got together but before they leave the hotel. Also... *looks in the direction of chapter 6 of Fine, jackass!*

* * *

It was quarter past midday when Alastor finally received the quiet notification from a shadow minion that Husker had emerged from his room and situated himself at the front desk. It was later than usual, but not unheard of, so he wasn't concerned when he dropped the conversation he had been having with one of the clients in favour of appearing by his sheik's side to wish him a good morning.

"Hello, Husker, my only sunshine!" Alastor said cheerfully and pulled his fluffy kitty into a side-hug. Husker hummed passively and leaned against him, which prompted Alastor to drop a kiss on his temple. "How are you this fine day?"

Alastor begun scratching behind Husker's ear while waiting for the answer.

Husker shrugged. "It's a day."

Alastor's scratching halted for a second and his smile dimmed in mild confusion. Husker sounded… off. Like he was just reading the words from a cue card without any emotion behind them. It was concerning, and needed to be fixed.

He widened the smile again and moved his scratching to the base of Husker's skull, hoping to get a better reaction from what he knew to be a sweeter spot. "Are hung over again? You sound a little unenthusiastic today. Have you eaten anything? Would you like a smoothie?"

Husker shook his head. That's all. Just a shake of his head and no other answer. Was it a collective answer to all of the questions? He didn't have a hangover, hadn't eaten, and didn't want a smoothie? Also, he wasn't purring, not even a little, despite how easily accomplished that usually was nowadays. And now that Alastor was paying attention to details, he noted that Husker's tail wasn't looped around his leg like usual. Alarm bells were going off in his head, and he turned Husker around to look him in the eyes.

Husker's eyes looked empty. The usual spark was gone and he looked at Alastor like he was a stranger. Or no, not a stranger, there was recognition; more like he simply didn't care. These eyes were worse than any of the similar eyes he had seen when Husker was hung over, very drunk, or having one of his depression spirals. Even during those times he had… emotions. He hated having them and that's why he drank, but he had them nonetheless. But not now. Now all that was there was emptiness.

For a brief moment, Alastor admittedly panicked internally. These were the eyes he saw in his nightmares when he was a second away from losing Husker. And now he saw them for real, outside of a dream.

It was like a punch in the gut. It left his unable to breathe and with an ache in the pit of his stomach.

He had to fix this. Husker couldn't look like this. What was wrong? Had he done something? Not done something? Had something happened? Who did he need to torture and kill messily for this? What did Husker need?

"Is something the matter, dearest?" he asked, widening his grin in an attempt to keep the emotional turmoil inside. He reached his fingers to the base of Husker's wings in a last-ditch effort to produce purrs and make everything better. Husker leaned slightly into the touch, but that was all. No purrs, no smiles, no emotion returning to his eyes.

Husker shrugged again. Alastor was starting to hate the gesture, and a tightness was forming in his chest from the desperate need to somehow fix this, but not having a single clue how to even begin.

He looked at Husker's lips, and then leaned in to peck them. No reaction. Husker didn't even reciprocate.

That was supposed to work. That always worked. Why didn't it work?

He swallowed the rapidly rising panic. It wouldn't help at all. At least Husker was physically here and safe, so the situation should be fixable as long as he focused.

...He wished his mother was here. She would surely know what to do.

"What can I do to help?" he asked, somewhat desperate. He couldn't do this if Husker didn't tell him how. Or he could try making Husker angry, as that was an emotion too and easier to do than happiness, but he would rather not do that in case it made the situation even worse. Maybe he should just drag Husker to the kitchen and cook him something whether he wanted it or not?

Husker looked at him apathetically, and then pulled away from the touch. Alastor's chest squeezed painfully, but before any feeling of despair could spread, Husker spoke: "Let's go for a walk."

...What?

Husker walked past him, and Alastor stood there like a completely gob-smacked moron for a few seconds before following, filled to the brim with questions and concerns and apparently hosting all of the feelings Husker currently lacked, because he was sure he didn't have this many himself. Although admittedly Husker had the habit of making him experience new feelings in a new context on a regular basis, so he should be used to it by now.

They were already outside and walking towards the central city before Alastor's confused brain worked well enough again to realize that their sudden departure wouldn't be appreciated by Charlie. He didn't particularly care about the inconvenience it caused, but it would be rude of him to not notify her, at least. He waved a hand in the hotel's direction, and a short note appeared on Charlie's desk. That ought to do.

He turned his attention back to Husker, who was simply walking forward and idly looking around without any focus. It was worrisome, but at least this was somewhat familiar now. He remembered an occasion, from decades ago, when Husker had called him and then dragged him out for a walk. Granted, Husker had been somewhat aggressive and conflicted then, rather than the apathy he was in at the moment, but they had walked and he had gotten better, and the rest had been fixable with cuddles and food. Hopefully that would happen now as well.

They walked in silence until they reached the city. Alastor saw a pub and assumed they'd go in, but Husker walked right past it without even a glance. It left Alastor feeling off-balance again, so he started talking to make the situation feel less alien. And, admittedly, to keep himself from being able to think too much. Husker didn't seem to care one way or another, which Alastor made the deliberate decision to not take personally.

They walked for hours, and Husker's situation didn't seem to improve. He walked past every pub and casino without any urge to enter. Alastor asked if he was hungry or thirsty whenever they passed a restaurant or even a distasteful little kiosk that he would normally not even consider buying anything from, but he got a shake of a head as an answer every time. They exited the city and found themselves in a random housing area, yet Husker kept on walking. Alastor stomped down any concerns along the lines of "what if he doesn't get better?" and just willed himself to be patient while keeping a one-sided conversation up.

It took a long time yet, but finally Husker stopped in his tracks in a completely random spot. Alastor immediately turned to look at him and searched his face for any change and finally, finally there was one.

Husker was frowning in thought, which was an actual expression, but most importantly the spark was back. He looked a bit out of it and weary, but that was still an emotion and it was better than the empty eyes.

Alastor's smile widened and he leaned towards Husker to get his attention. And he got it. Husker looked at him, actually looked at him instead of looking practically through him. "Are you feeling better?"

Husker looked into his eyes for a long moment, and then a tired, yet gentle smile rose to his lips. Alastor's heart sang with joy and the anxiety from before evaporated completely with just that one quirk of lips. "Yeah. Thanks. ...Sorry for worrying you."

Alastor laughed, pulled Husker into a hug, and nuzzled his fluffy cheek in relief. Husker's arms wrapped loosely around his waist after a couple of seconds, and that made it even better; his Husker was always more than welcome to return his hugs, unlike most people in Hell. He had had that privilege for decades, as rarely used as it had been in the beginning.

"You know, I'm pretty hungry now", Husker said, and Alastor's mood lifted even higher. "And tired. And sorry I didn't appreciate the kiss from earlier as much as I should have."

"Nonsense! All of that can be fixed now!" Alastor said with an elated laugh, snapped his fingers to magically relocate them to his kitchen, and then planted a big kiss on Husker's much more responsive lips.

The purr he received in return proved that Husker was finally working the way he was supposed to. Excellent! Now to apply food, cuddles, and a nap, and everything would be just swell again.

And now he knew what to do if this happened again.


	7. Beignets

A/N: Prompt by Ametan:  
Shitty theme park beignets

This chapter happens after they got together but before they leave the hotel. This is one of their days off; Alastor now purposefully takes more vacation time than before and always has them be on Husk's first day off so they can do something together~

* * *

Husk was regretting most of his life choices.

Why in the name of all things okay-ish had he let Alastor drag him to a theme park, out of all places? He hated the large crowds of people. He loathed the loudass fucking noises. He didn't "enjoy the atmosphere" like some people. He didn't even like the rides, for fuck's sake! So why?

"Husker, look! Another person fell off that ride!" Alastor said excitedly, looking like a kid in a candy shop while pointing at a demon who had been violently flung from a poorly constructed ride and was currently writhing on the ground, clutching their arm in obvious pain. The safety measures truly sucked in this place, enough fucking said – that was Hell for you, folks.

Husk, however, paid little attention to the poor bastard in pain, as his eyes were glued on Alastor's illegally adorable expression of pure glee and excitement. This theme park was so shitty that Alastor didn't even have to lift a finger for someone to get hurt or for something interesting to happen, so he was in a constant state of happy anticipation and practically skipping while he walked.

Yeah, that was why. Fuck damn it, Husk was way too smitten with this sadistic jackass.

"I hope you weren't expecting to drag me on any of the fucking rides, as now I'm even more disinclined to do that than I already was", Husk grumbled, which earned him a laugh from Alastor.

"Of course not, darling! If I wanted to ride those contraptions, I would have asked Niffty to accompany me", Alastor said jovially, squeezed the paw he was holding, and then turned to look in the direction of the next panicked scream piercing the air.

Husk rather thought that Niffty had dodged a bullet there, considering how many people were flung or dropped from or crushed by the unsafe rides. Then again, Alastor would probably protect the two of them, so maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Still, Husk would absolutely not be volunteering himself for such torture anytime soon. If he wanted to go fast and defy death, he would simply fly as high up as he could and let himself fall freely most of the way down. Now that he thought about it, Alastor would probably love that as well, so maybe they should do it together sometime.

He smiled to himself at the thought, and then blinked and looked around curiously as the smell of grease and burnt sugar reached his nose. Their random wandering had taken them near the food stalls, apparently. Hmm, he could actually go for a hot dog or something. Alastor would turn his cute pointy nose up at the barely edible garbage for sure, but that would be his loss.

He tugged at Alastor's hand to get his attention.

"Hey. Feed me", he said, and pointed at the stalls. Alastor looked at them and his eyes narrowed, his grin tightened, and his nose crinkled so fucking adorably that Husk was hard pressed to refrain from kissing it – he knew Alastor really wouldn't appreciate it at the moment.

"...If you're sure", Alastor said, sounding resigned and disapproving, but walked over with him anyway. Hah, this proved beyond any doubt that the bastard loved him in his own way.

However, their plans to purchase food came to a sudden halt the moment they were close enough to look at the selection and they saw Them.

There was a platter of greasy, soggy, sugar-clumped lumps that were labeled as "beignets". Husk wouldn't have been able to connect them with the perfect squares of deliciousness that Alastor occasionally made for him if they didn't have the damning label.

Alastor's expression went blank as he stared at them, and Husk could already see where this would go. There was no fucking way Alastor could look at something from his own culture be mutilated that badly and let it slide.

Husk carefully pulled his paw free from Alastor's grip and took a few of steps back, keeping a perfect poker face all the while.

Alastor's grin turned dangerous as he leaned against the least grease-stained spot on the stall and snapped his fingers to get the stallkeeper's attention. "Excuse me, my good sir. Are you the person who made these… questionable confections?"

The demon – looked to be some kind of a bug, but that's about the extent of what Husk could identify – turned to give Alastor a haughty look. "Hey man, that's hella racist. My great grandma was from Louisiana – that's where beignets are from you know – so these are totally authentic. Piss off if you're not gonna buy some."

What was it that kids these days, like this idiot here, did in situations like this? ...Oh, right. Popcorn; Husk wished he had some. The irony that this stall actually sold it was not lost on him.

Alastor's smile widened and his shadow rose from the ground to drape itself over his shoulders to smile gleefully at the moron, who was obviously not familiar with the Radio Demon as he wasn't running for the hills already. Some of the other people nearby were, in fact, making themselves scarce. Potentially a smart move. "Oh? Did you visit New Orleans often when you were still topside?"

Husk took a couple of more steps back, just to be safe.

"What? Psh, why would I wanna do that? Never been."

Yep. Kid was dead.

Alastor laughed and peeled himself off the stall. "I figured as much! It really shows, my brave boy-o! Here, let me give you an example of true New Orleans culture."

Alastor snapped his fingers and a bunch of his freaky voodoo shadow minions appeared inside of the stall, finally frightening the poor fool properly.

Husk averted his eyes and flattened his ears just as the screaming and ripping sounds started. At least it was just the one guy this time.

When things finally quieted, Alastor stepped up beside him, holding a tray. It had a bag of fries, a hot dog on a cardboard plate, a bottle of beer, two lidded cups that smelled like coffee, a mysterious take-away box that was slowly turning red at the bottom – which Husk made the deliberate decision to exclude from his reality – and a pile of napkins.

"That stall turned out to be better than expected!" Alastor said cheerfully. "Let's find ourselves a table and have a snack!"

Well then. He got what he wanted. Now he just had to make sure to look the fuck away while Alastor ate his own surprise meal.

Fucking theme parks.


	8. Inadequacy

A/N: Prompts by Deskdraik, Ametan, AND anon:  
1\. I need a jealous Alastor! maybe one where someone gets very close to Husk and then that person mysteriously disappears and Alastor has a full refrigerator. Maybe doing something yandere, where he offers Husk some meatloaf, from the person. Heck, I really like dark fics, but if you want you can do it fluffy.  
2\. Alastor getting jealous of Husk because Husk has a new friend and actually wants to spend time with them?  
3\. Can Angel flirt with Husk, and Husk be rather meh about it but is confronted by jealous Alastor? I know Al is double As, but I think he can b jealous of attention.

I'm getting the feeling that people want a jealous Alastor or something? : D

So. This sure didn't end up being a drabble. It's a full length chapter. Which... appropriate, since it covers three peoples' prompts? XD

This happens roughly a week before the serenade war ;)

* * *

Husker was having a conversation with Angel Dust again. He had been doing that in increasing amounts lately, especially compared to how he had been actively pushing him – everyone, really – away on every possible manner not that long ago.

Alastor's grin sharpened and his eyes narrowed as he watched them from the other side of the room, ignoring the uninteresting and unimportant company he was with. He was itching to magic his way over there and insert himself into their conversation. To subtly push Angel out of it somewhere down the line and have Husker's undivided attention on himself, and most importantly away from Angel.

He had been feeling this way on a few occasions recently, and it was disconcerting. He didn't like it at all. Alastor felt… threatened by Angel's newly found presence in Husker's afterlife. And he knew why, as much as he hated to admit it.

It was a well known fact that Angel was interested in Husker in a romantic manner, to some extent. He had made that abundantly clear over the months; even Alastor had been able to see it despite his slowness at recognizing these things. Now, Husker was Alastor's sheik, and hadn't shown any interest in Angel at any point during their stay at the hotel. But, on a theoretical level, Angel had more to offer to Husker than Alastor did if the two of them were to pursue a romantic relationship. And that left Alastor feeling ill at ease.

Angel was surprisingly sweet and intelligent. When he put aside his… questionable public persona, he was admittedly fun to be around. Not Alastor's preferred company by any means, but Angel had come far since the beginning of his stay at the hotel and he now had a lot of genuine friends and admirers within the clientèle. He had the sort of charm that put people around him at ease, unlike Alastor whose presence unnerved people even when he tried to be friendly, and exhausted them in the cases where someone actually tried to return the courtesy. Now that Angel had mostly dropped his attempts to flirt with Husker, his company seemed well received. His progress at befriending Husker was going infinitely faster than Alastor's had – it had taken Alastor almost a year before Husker had accepted his presence to the point where he had been able to stop actively anticipating the day where Husker turned him away. Angel had been making leaps and bounds towards that point in a matter of weeks now that Husker wasn't pushing everyone away in his misery. ...Alastor still felt rotten about letting said misery fester right under his nose, but now wasn't the time to dwell on that.

Another point. As far as Alastor knew, Angel was physically attractive; he wouldn't be so popular in the adult film industry if he wasn't, or so Alastor assumed. Alastor honestly didn't know whether he himself was attractive to people in general, even if he knew Husker found him pleasing to the eye. If only because love was supposedly in the eye of the beholder. The concept of physical attraction was so beyond Alastor's understanding that he had stopped trying to make sense of it decades ago. Point was, Angel was probably conventionally attractive and Husker was likely aware of it, because most people noticed things like that.

That made him a fun AND an attractive person to be around. Theoretically, there was no reason for Husker to not consider it, since Angel was clearly interested.

But the real thing that made Alastor more wary than he liked to admit was the fact that Angel would happily reciprocate any and all feelings a normal romantic relationship contained. He could love Husker on an emotional level. He would be more than happy with physical intimacy.

Alastor was incapable of both.

Or, if he was perfectly truthful, he wasn't so much incapable of the physical side as he was absolutely disgusted and disturbed by it. There was a difference. He could, technically, lay with Husker if he had to. But the idea alone made his skin crawl. Made him want to grab a knife and peel off his own hide. Made his stomach churn and threaten to expel his last meal. Made him feel like he couldn't get air into his lungs and made his vision tunnel in sheer, blind panic. He was physically able to have sex, yes, but he would quite simply much rather die.

He was also endlessly bitter about his inability to return Husker's feelings properly. He wanted to make him happy. He wanted to ensure he stayed with him forever. But he couldn't muster up the kind of love that would better his chances.

So, what if… What if Husker realized that Angel could offer him so much more than Alastor?

If this issue had been presented to him a few months ago, it wouldn't have even been an issue. Husker would have been free to date Angel as long as Alastor was still his best friend. As simple as that. Probably. Maybe.

But now? Now Alastor had gotten to taste a new level of closeness with Husker. He had discovered new enjoyable ways to touch him and interact with him. New, absolutely precious sides that Husker hadn't let him see before. Moments of blissful happiness that hadn't been possible before, because Husker hadn't let him close enough, hadn't felt comfortable enough to let it happen, let it show. And Alastor was addicted. Completely hooked. He didn't want to let go of it now that he had it. He couldn't bear the thought of having to return to what they had before this. Of letting the distance grow again. Of losing the privilege to brush Husker's fur, groom his wings, cuddle entire nights away, have Husker sometimes purr at the mere sight of him, have him melt into his every touch. Alastor didn't even want to give up the kissing, even if he wasn't receptive to the idea every day. He had found that some days he actually wanted to do it now because it made him feel close to Husker in a strange way that nothing else did – maybe because he did it with nobody else but him.

No. He didn't want to lose that. He was terrified of the thought of Husker choosing someone else over him and withdrawing what they had now. Because he would. Husker allowed these new additions to their relationship solely because they were sheiks. If they broke up, the privileges would be taken away. He might even take back some of the things they had before, just because he would have someone else to do it with. Would cuddling be allowed? Nuzzling his face? Could they still go grocery shopping together or not? Alastor didn't know where the line would be drawn and it made him anxious.

Husker might even leave him completely, friendship and everything. That happened often when people broke up. Friendships were ruined because of failed attempts at romance. Husker didn't talk about it directly, but Alastor had started gaining pieces of a story, or stories, that implied that exact thing had happened to Husker before. It may even have been the reason he hadn't wanted to tell Alastor about his feelings for literal decades. So it was most definitely a real thing that happened when love failed.

And that is why Alastor wanted to stop Angel Dust from getting any closer to Husker. A preemptive measure, one could say. Just to make sure he wouldn't threaten the happiness they had found by offering Husker things Alastor couldn't.

But interrupting their conversation wouldn't really be enough. He couldn't keep doing that infinitely. He had work to do, and Husker would be annoyed by the constant interruptions anyway. No, he needed to think of something else.

Maybe Husker wouldn't notice or care if Angel went missing? Angel was skinny; he could fit in Alastor's freezer if he was cut up just right. The extermination day was only a couple of months away, and he would be easy to store until then. Nobody would think to look for him there.

But Alastor had promised Charlie to not purposefully hurt the patrons of the hotel.

Should he make Angel leave first? That way he would technically honor his promise. But how? Angel had been around the longest and was making good progress; he had no desire to leave. He couldn't be directly threatened either, as he would simply tell Charlie about it. Hmm…

Alastor suddenly became aware of feeling eyes on him and snapped out of his thoughts. His gaze focused on Husker again, and he found that it was actually him whose stare he felt. Husker's impressive eyebrows were furrowed, but then twitched up when their eyes locked. He raised one of the eyebrows higher, and then made a "come here" gesture with a claw.

Angel Dust was no longer around, Alastor noted. When had he left? How long had he been spacing out?

Annoyed with himself but trying to not show it, he magicked his way to Husker. He appeared on the bar stool in front of his sheik, leaned his arms on the counter, and gave him a wide smile. "You called, my sweet?"

Husker looked unimpressed. "Yeah, and you can cut the cutesy bullshit right now. What the hell is up?"

Alastor blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. "Pardon?"

"You were glaring daggers from across the room for a longass time, and then you zoned the fuck out while kind of… awkwardly staring at me", Husker said, and crossed his arms. Alastor could hear his tail sweeping the floor agitatedly behind the counter. "This isn't the first time you've done this, either. Mind, it's been brief before, but I've noticed. So, how about you fucking spill the beans before this turns into some weirdass crisis or something."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. He did not appreciate Husker calling… this… a crisis. And he was admittedly miffed at having been caught. He tapped his fingers on the counter while considering his options. On one hand, he didn't like being called out. On the other hand, maybe the situation could be resolved easily if he simply told Husker to stop being so chummy with Angel. If he reached out and scratched Husker on the right spot while doing it, he could even better his chances of getting what he wanted.

He looked at Husker's worried expression and forced himself to abandon the plan of manipulating him just to make his own life easier. He was trying his hardest to not do that anymore; it led to Husker agreeing to things that made him unhappy in the long run, and Alastor was striving to keep him happy.

His happy Husker.

No manipulating. He needed to approach this differently.

"Has Angel Dust been bothering you?" Alastor asked, keeping his tone carefully light. "He seems to be at the counter all the time now."

Husker's eyebrows rose again and Alastor could almost see the gears turning in his head. Husker had a really sharp mind when it wasn't addled with too much alcohol, and as such a strangely knowing look overtook his features in no time. "You're jealous of Angel Dust."

...This was not going to the direction Alastor had thought it would.

"Why would I be jealous of Angel Dust?" he asked defensively, and summoned his microphone stand on his free hand to have something other than Husker to look at. He didn't want to keep seeing that knowing look that made him question himself too much.

The feeling wasn't jealousy. He was just reasonably worried. Moderately possessive. Understandably threatened. A bit terrified. Feeling maybe a little inadequate. A dash murderous.

Surely those didn't spell out jealousy?

"Honestly? Fuck if I know", Husker said, and Alastor was startled into looking at him again when his paw landed softly on top of Alastor's hand, stilling his drumming fingers. Husker was giving him a soft look, with half-lidded eyes, a small smile and relaxed ears. It never failed to make Alastor feel calmer, more relaxed, more valued than ever before. "Pretty sure you're the motherfucker I'm in love with, not anyone else. You're at least twice as handsome as Angel is. You're twice as annoying as well, but I'm used to your brand of annoyance, so I don't give a shit. You're much funnier than he is. You're the only one whose hugs I actually want and who I voluntarily purr for. I don't even need to muster up the energy to fuck you to keep you happy, so that makes my life nice and easy. And you have a lot less grabby fucking hands than Angel does, which, trust me, is a damn good thing. I'm not gonna house train another clingy jackass when I finally have you where I want you, so throw any moronic worries out of your pretty red head and stop plotting his murder."

...How did Husker do this? How did he know the exact right words to say to him, when even he hadn't known what he had wanted to hear? He had thought getting rid of the problem – as in Angel Dust – would make the feeling of inadequacy go away, but now it was erased with just words and Husker's paw on his hand instead.

This was similar to how he had felt less and less need to commit mass-murder once he met Husker. He hadn't noticed it at first. When he did, he tried to correct course and make up for the lost time, but it wasn't the same anymore; he didn't feel the burning need to do it, and instead he just went through the motions. And then he realized it was because the void he had been trying to fill with it had ceased to be; Husker had somehow filled it. Yes, he did still occasionally broadcast even now, but it was no longer… compulsive. He simply did it when he felt like it; be it because someone needed to be taught a lesson, because he was hungry, because he wanted to listen to screams, because he was angry about something, because of whatever. There was a reason for every instance now, no matter how frivolous. It hadn't been so before he met Husker.

And now. Now Husker was calming down yet another murderous instinct of his.

How?

"...You were actually plotting his fucking murder, weren't you?" Husker suddenly asked, snapping Alastor out of his thoughts.

Alastor looked at their hands, and carefully turned his palm up so he could lace their fingers together. Then he smiled at Husker. "Did you want to hear the details of the plan?"

Husker squeezed his hand.

"If anyone who talks to me here disappears abruptly, the first thing I'll do is fucking confiscate your freezer. Just so you know."

...How?


	9. The antler strikes back

A/N: Prompt by Ametan: Spoon.

I pretty much dared her to give me a one-word prompt, and got one XD Here's what I cooked up from it~

This happens between Afterlife chapters 11 and 12, as in before the hotel.

* * *

Today was the day. Husk set his toolbox and the additional equipment on the kitchen table, and then made his way to the living room while whistling.

He grabbed a key from the bookshelf and idly noted that a new porcelain deer had joined the herd at some point. This one looked about two thirds decomposed, being partly skeletal but still having chunks of meat and skin hanging from its bones. Fucking gross. He moved it to the back, letting its healthier looking kin be on display while the zombies and skeletons were mostly hidden behind them. Much better.

Satisfied, he turned his back to them and walked over the chest of drawers in a corner. He unlocked the top drawer and fished out a handful of Alastor's shed antlers. It was time to put a few of them to dubiously good use again.

He grinned to himself and returned to the kitchen, where he sat down and began his work. The antlers had, of course, already been coated with various shits to preserve them, so all he had to do was turn them into whatever he wanted to. This time, grill forks and spoons, hopefully.

The grill forks were easy: he simply attached an antler to a thin metal pole, and then attached a wooden handle to the other end. Now all he had to do was buy some sausages and marshmallows, invite Alastor over, and then they could go set something on fire and have a little grill party. It was so fucking stupid that there was no way Alastor wouldn't absolutely love it.

The spoons he was a lot less sure about, and he didn't think he'd actually want to use them in the first place, but he wanted to try making them just so Alastor could discover them and have a good giggle.

But the question was: was his hypothesis about their whacky magical properties correct?

He picked up one antler and stared at it. It was time to behave like a truly crazy person, and internally blame it on Alastor's presence in his afterlife rubbing off on him. Thankfully nobody else would ever know about this.

"Okay, motherfucker. I know you can do strange shit, so here's the deal. I want you to grow inwards between these here prongs and become spoon shaped. Feel free to get thinner in the process."

He stared. The antler did nothing.

Fine. He hadn't expected it to be that simple anyway.

He squeezed the antler tightly in his claws, closed his eyes, and concentrated really hard on what he wanted the magic to accomplish.

Become a spoon. Do crazy magic and grow to fill the space between the prongs. Come on, bitch, you can do it.

This time he felt a very Alastor-like energy wash over his claws, and he opened his eyes to see the results.

...That was not a spoon. The antler had started to grow and branch like they did when Alastor went full Radio Demon on someone's ass.

"Fuck!" Husk said and dropped the thing on the table in hopes of the growth stopping when the contact ceased. It did not. The antler kept on getting longer and sprouting new prongs and it pushed some of his tools off the table.

Husk grabbed it again and concentrated. "Stop growing!"

It didn't. That is, not until it reached its full, very unwieldy size. It also refused to shrink back to the cute little thing it had been, no matter how much he concentrated and swore.

Okay, so no spoons. Now, what the actual fuck was he supposed do with this fucker? It wouldn't fit in the damn drawer. It was longer than his fucking arm!

After much thinking, he decided to hide it under his bed and see if it would shrink on its own eventually – no use making something out of it if it would just shrink down again and stop serving its purpose. When he remembered its existence a month later and it hadn't changed at all, he did some more thinking and eventually attached it vertically to the base of his post box as a highly dubious decoration. It actually balanced the post box quite nicely in his opinion, and he could hang some fucking Christmas decorations off it or some shit if he felt like being ridiculously festive. It would either amuse or offend Alastor, and that would be a bonus!

He stopped receiving spam mail immediately. He never found out if the magic somehow prevented or destroyed such garbage or if the freaky antler simply discouraged all bullshit from the mailman. Regardless, at least it turned out useful in the end.


	10. His magician

AN/: Prompt by Memento_M0ri:  
Alastor and husk drinking, taking a bit of time for themselves to relax and unwind, be comfortable around each other for a while, tho neither will admit it, with husk doing magic tricks for Al. Alastor is completely hooked and amazed with Husk's sleight of hand and how well he can pull his tricks without giving anything away. Card tricks, coin tricks, things "disappearing and reappearing", Alastor can't figure out how he's doing it, and Husk is loving it. Maybe Al tries to impress husk back with some ACTUAL magic, doing a trick or two, trying to wow him and show off back, like how Husk is showing off. Husk is either not impressed, or pretends he isn't, to get a rise out of Al. I don't care how it would end or what all you'd do to it, I am not picky at all, lol.

Well, not all of that is in, but I'm sure this will be satisfying nonetheless ;)

This chapter happens not too long after they got together, sometime before the jealousy chapter.

* * *

The bar they were at was mostly quiet tonight. Alastor took a sip from his glass of passably decent whiskey while listening to Husker's tale of how Niffty almost killed Angel Dust with a chandelier earlier this week. He hummed and chuckled at the appropriate parts, with zero intention of letting Husker know that he had already heard this story from both a stressed Charlie and an unapologetic Niffty. Husker was more of a listener most of the time, so hearing him talk so animatedly about something was a rare treat Alastor wouldn't turn down lightly.

Husker had been in a particularly good mood for a couple of days now. Alastor wondered what had caused it, but the only thing out of the norm that matched with the timing of Husker's good mood was the silly chocolate box. Alastor had witnessed Vaggie leaving a box of chocolates with a note attached to it on Charlie's office desk. The note had informed Charlie that Vaggie would be waiting for her at a certain time at a nearby restaurant, and she hoped Charlie would be there. Since Alastor had planned on taking a day off this week and had wanted to spend it with Husker, he had decided to mimic the gesture and had left a box of chocolates on the bar counter for him, with a note asking him to meet up at their regular bar at a specific time. It had been a convenient way to relay the message, as Alastor had been rather busy making sure he was caught up with his paperwork and other things in order to not leave anything hanging when his day off arrived. The next day when he had gone to wish Husker a good morning, his sheik had been in an excellent mood. The connection between the two events was shaky at best, but it was the only thing he could think of.

Well, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that Husker was in a good mood, had dressed sharply for once, and they were having a good time.

"Hey Al?" Husker asked, which made Alastor realize that he hadn't been paying quite as much attention to their conversation as he ought to have. He was pretty sure he had caught the end of the story, but it seemed that he might have missed a beat afterwards.

"Yes, darling?" he asked, and focused completely on the here and now. Husker was giving him a mischievous smile – quite a lovely look on him – and was holding two coasters in his paws.

Alastor tilted his head and eyed the items. One was slightly damp, and Husker's beer glass had been moved to rest on the bare table, but otherwise they were simply identical pieces of cardboard with one white side and one side with the bar's logo on it. Husker was holding them on his claws with the whites sides facing his palms.

"Watch this", Husker said. He held them close together, tapped them rapidly against the table a few times, and then pulled his hands apart… And the coasters now had the white sides out.

Alastor blinked rapidly. ...What just happened?

Husker's grin widened and he brought the coasters close again. Alastor kept his eyes peeled.

Tap tap tap! And the whites sides were in again.

"How do you do that?" Alastor asked incredulously. He knew Husker didn't have magic like he did, but he had completely failed to see when the coasters had gotten flipped. Yet somehow they had been.

"A magician never reveals his tricks", Husker said, sounding unbearably smug and spinning one of the coasters with his claws. "Do you want to see more?"

"Yes!" Alastor answered immediately, smile reaching his ears in his enthusiasm. Husker was always at his happiest when he was performing – he needed to be happy in order to want to do it in the first place, and the activity itself brought him more happiness – so there were no circumstances where Alastor would tell him no.

For the next however long a while Alastor was treated to a private magic show. Husker poured beer into his own ear with a straw and had it dribble out of his mouth. He stuck the same straw all the way inside of his nostril only to pull it out of his mouth right after. Finally he thoroughly tangled the straw together with another one and pulled them apart with a single move without either of them breaking. Alastor didn't understand how Husker's ear, nose and mouth could be connected like that, much less how the straw could survive all but the last trick unbent. Husker just laughed at his questions with a proud look plastered all over his face. It was a rare sight and Alastor absolutely loved seeing it.

Next Husker pulled out a coin and made it dance on his knuckles, which was less magical and more just showing off, but impressive and entertaining nonetheless. Then the coin started disappearing and reappearing in various places. It was in Husker's left paw but then appeared in his right, then back on his left, and back on his right. It was slapped on the table with one paw, only to appear under the other one. Then it was rubbed against the tablecloth until it vanished, and right afterwards it was pulled out of Alastor's ear. Alastor hadn't even felt it in his ear until Husker pulled it out! There weren't enough words in the dictionary to describe Alastor's sheer bafflement. Now this was entertainment!

And then Husker's magic went even further. He ripped apart a paper napkin and dropped it back on the table completely whole. He rolled a spoon into a cloth napkin, but what came out when unrolled the napkin was a fork. He made two toothpicks pass through each other when they had been in a firmly locked position, and finally made Alastor break one of those toothpick inside of the previous cloth napkin and still be whole when he unfolded the napkin.

Alastor's mind was blown more with each trick. He had seen Husker do magic with playing cards plenty of times. He had seen him do miraculous things with the magic tool set he had at home an a few occasions. But these displays were performed on the spot with the mundane items that he simply scavenged from around the bar; they couldn't have been prepared beforehand. Husker was simply doing his tricks like there was nothing to it, and Alastor was thrown for a loop. It was the best feeling in the world.

Husker was leaning his arm on the table and his cheek against his palm, smiling warmly at Alastor. "How about one more piece of magic and then we're done? For this one, you'll need to close your eyes."

Alastor closed his eyes immediately, and almost quivered in anticipation. He had no idea what to expect – and how thrilling was that! – so he simply waited and listened.

He heard a chair move, and then Husker got up and walked over to him. Alastor fought the urge to open his eyes as Husker's claws very carefully cradled his face – he also kept the discomfort at being touched at bay – and then a kiss was pressed on one corner of his smiling mouth, followed by the other. Alastor puckered his lips a little in invitation, knowing full well that's what Husker was hoping to get – Husker never kissed him on the lips without a permission, but he had figured out ways to ask for it without words on the rare occasions he really wanted one. As expected, Alastor's lips were captured into a slightly gross but oddly enjoyable contact for a brief moment, before Husker pulled away and chuckled.

"Ah, it seems I messed up the magic a little", Husker said with a humorous tone of voice. Alastor took that as his cue to open his eyes and give Husker a questioning look.

"Oh? And what went wrong?" he asked, playing along.

"I meant to steal your kiss", Husker said, smile growing. "But turns out you stole my heart instead."

Now, Alastor wasn't well-versed in flirting. In fact, it tended to fly right over his antlered head. But even he knew that line was absolutely cheesy. So he laughed.

"Really, my dear! Aren't you getting a little mushy, as you like to put it?" he asked, and leaned his cheek against one of the paws still framing his face.

Husker moved his thumb, caressing the edge of his smile in a most delightful manner. "Pretty sure I'm allowed to be mushy and flirt with my sheik on our first official date, jackass."

…Date? This was a date? How? Why? When was that established? What was going on?

All it took was one look at Husker's adoring, happy face, and Alastor decided to not ask any of the questions out loud. Instead, he gave him another kiss and figured he'd simply enjoy the rest of the date without questioning any of it.

All that mattered was that Husker was in the best mood he'd been in a while, and that was the truly magical part of the evening.


	11. Dogs

A/N: Prompt by Anon:  
So in the wiki it says Alastor is (or was) afraid of dogs since they had something to do with his death. Could you write a chapter off of Husk discovering his fear?

Technically Alastor just dislikes dogs in canon instead of being afraid of them, but I think him being afraid of them is much more entertaining so I certainly stan that ;)

This happens between chapters 1 and 2 of Fine, Jackass!

* * *

Husk and Alastor were having an outing in a park. Yes, that's what Husk liked to mentally call their friendly activities that involved not being at either of their homes, fuck you very much.

An outing could be anything. It could be a bar trip. It could be grocery shopping. It could be Alastor summoning him to some completely random place that ranged from a café to a garden party to a wilderness area in the middle of nowhere. It could be just going out for a walk. Alastor seemed to be happy with any kind of an activity or even lack-there-of as long as they spent some time together on a semi-regular basis.

Husk felt weirdly flattered about having someone be that keen on hanging out with him of all people. He hadn't had that kind a relationship with anyone since he died – Hell, it had been a while even before he died. Sometimes, when he was just the right amount of drunk and sentimental, he felt like crying from sheer, silly happiness because of it. It was so stupid and embarrassing, and there was no fucking way in hell that he'd tell Alastor, but having someone who cared was really nice.

Regardless of how secretive he was about his appreciation of Alastor's friendship, the fact that said appreciation existed was why he was starting to really pay attention to all the little things about his friend. And that's why he noticed the subtle change in Alastor's body language when a group of dog demons entered the park they were currently having an outing at.

The two of them were sitting on a bench, drinking take-away coffee and scouting for poor fools that Alastor could trick into his sketchy deals at a later time – Alastor claimed that he could see the deal potential in the way the demons carried themselves, so he simply looked at people, decided who would be ripe for the picking soon, and sent a little stalker shadow to trail them so that he could swoop in and strike a deal when the opportunity came. It was creepy as fuck, but Husk was desensitized to it to the point where he didn't give a damn anymore.

While they were people watching, Alastor was talking non-stop like the motormouth he was. Husk listened with half an ear while savoring the feeling of the warm cup in his paws, and the odd contentment he sometimes felt in Alastor's presence. It was pretty nice, all things considered.

And then Alastor suddenly cut off mid-sentence for an unnatural second, before continuing his rambling at a slightly lower volume. What the fuck?

Husk looked at Alastor, whose eyes were fixed intently on something for a moment before they proceeded to look anywhere else but there, yet without letting whatever it was out of his peripheral vision. Not weird at all or anything.

Husk looked over to the direction Alastor's gaze had visited. Three distinctly dog-formed demons had walked into the park and were headed towards the shitty little kiosk they had bought their coffees from. That was the only thing going on in that direction, so it had to be what had sparked Alastor's somewhat worrisome reaction.

Did Alastor know the demons? Were they trouble?

Husk kept on looking. One of the demons looked like a Doberman. One like a German Shepherd. One like a Coonhound. None of them looked particularly confident or walked like they owned the place, like the stronger demons tended to do. They weren't big, they didn't have super creepily monstrous forms, they didn't carry visible weapons. There was nothing about them that made him feel wary in any manner, and they didn't look familiar in the slightest.

One of them glanced in his direction, met eyes with him for a second, and then dismissed him to look at Alastor. Their eyes widened, ears lowered, their tail tucked itself between their legs, and they turned their gaze away hurriedly. It was clear they recognized the Radio Demon and considered themselves way inferior and potentially in danger.

If one out of the group behaved like that, chances were the rest of them shared the sentiment. So, they absolutely weren't a threat; Husk would bet a lot on that.

That left the question: what was up with Alastor?

Husk turned his eyes away from the dogs and back to his friend. What he saw was fucking wild.

Alastor was still chattering away like nothing was wrong, but his stance told a completely different story. His ears were perked up and angled towards the dogs, alert. His back was ramrod straight and his feet were positioned in a way where he could leap up and dash off in a split-second if he had to. His microphone stand had appeared in his right hand, but it wasn't held idly as a fiddle toy or leaned against the ground like a walking stick. No, it was held at a ready like a bludgeoning weapon, thin fingers curled around the shaft tightly. Most alarmingly, there was a very quiet tinnitus in Husk's ears. The only reason he even noticed it was because he was paying attention, but when he did he couldn't un-notice it.

Alastor was absolutely in fight or flight mode, and pretending nothing was wrong.

It was really fucking weird and alarming.

"Hey Al?" Husk asked, cutting Alastor off without even knowing what he had been yammering on about – he had been paying zero attention to Alastor's chatter ever since the earlier pause. "You okay?"

Alastor looked at him from the corner of his eye instead of turning his head like a normal person. He couldn't turn if he wanted to keep the dogs within his vision. Yeah, really fucking weird. "Whatever makes you ask that, my friend?"

He avoided answering the question. Definitely not okay. "Gee, I fucking wonder. Maybe the fact that you're acting like a-"

Husk fell silent. He had been about to compare Alastor to a cornered animal and… The guy actually was a fucking deer demon, and deer were prey animals. Was that it? Was he instinctively wary of… being hunted or something?

No, that didn't actually make sense. That was human logic. A deer wouldn't differentiate between dogs and other large predators. Alastor hadn't displayed this kind of a behaviour around any other demon in Husk's presence. Hell, he should be afraid of Husk with that kind of a logic, since a cat was most definitely a predator. So if these demons weren't a threat on their own right, and it wasn't Alastor's animal instincts acting up, then what was it about them that made Alastor act like he was… afraid...

Huh.

"Husker, what-"

"Are you afraid of dogs?"

There was a record scratch sound in the air. That was quite honestly all the confirmation Husk needed.

"I'm not afraid of dogs", Alastor said a little too quickly. Husk raised an eyebrow. "I'm not. I'm… somewhat wary of them, yes, but I wouldn't call it fear. I can handle being in their vicinity."

Husk wasn't sure if he would call Alastor's behaviour "handling it", but he supposed it wasn't his business to call him out on it. Especially when Alastor looked this fucking close to going all Radio Demon on said dogs if they moved too suddenly.

Well then.

"If you say so", Husk said casually, and tossed his empty coffee cup in the direction of the nearby trash can. It landed inside of it perfectly. "Anyway, my ass is getting numb from sitting on this uncomfortable fucking bench, so how about we get the hell out of here and go get a burger or something? That coffee made me hungry."

Alastor was very quick to stand up and be ready to leave, predictably enough. Not afraid of dogs his hairy ass. Though maybe the bastard actually believed his own words. "Hungry, you say? I'm certain something can be arranged, although it will most definitely not be a burger from the uncouth and dingy little joints in this area. Why, my reputation would be in shambles if I were to be seen in a place like those! No, I believe we shall find something better, my dear! I know a most wonderful restaurant..."

Husk stretched and stood up, falling into step with his friend and leaving the park and everything within behind without a backwards glance.

Maybe he would ask some day, maybe he wouldn't. But at least he knew what to be on the lookout for from now on, just in case.


	12. Warmth

Prompt by Anon:  
Since you're asking for prompts, I've always wondered what would happen if the rakshasa has the ability to control cat demon forms that Alastor wasn't aware of -similar to bloodbending. The rakshasa could've used it to take husk as hostage in exchange for the stolen artifact.

I don't fancy doing a real AU here, because that'd set a precedent I don't want. So instead it's "more nightmares for Alastor" o'clock! : D

Warning: mild violence and gore, character death

This chapter happens sometime during their last couple of months at the hotel.

* * *

Alastor was half concentrating on disabling the magical traps without alerting his enemy, and half keeping an ear out for the voices coming from Husker's Walkman. So far both endeavors, his and Husker's, were going very well: he was making steady progress and Husker was keeping Ishita distracted. His smile widened and he had to refrain from humming in exhilaration while he worked, as he needed to keep a low profile.

Finally, after a few minutes, he could open the door to the treasure chamber safely and scan the insides for more traps, and for the magical presence of his prize. The traps were scattered around to protect specific items, and thus he could ignore most of them and concentrate on the one that was bound to the pedestal his target was resting on.

Now all he had to do was disable one last trap. He practically skipped over to the pedestal and… simply stared at his prize with no want for it whatsoever.

Why did looking at the item he had desired for a good long while fill him with such a deep feeling of resentment and utter dread? Just looking at it made him want to hurl it to the deepest, fieriest, most Eldritch horror infested pit he could find in Hell, and then crumble down and cry his eyes out while laughing hysterically. Why?

"Alastor!" Husker's voice suddenly rang loudly in his ears. But that was all. No follow-up, no sounds of struggling, no sounds from Ishita, nothing.

Alastor's blood ran cold. Without a second thought, he used Husker's Walkman as a pathway and transmitted himself to its location via the radio waves.

What he saw filled him with confusion. He had expected… something else, but he wasn't sure what. Somehow he was relieved by what he saw instead. For now anyway.

Ishita was standing in front of the gates, her right paw lifted up with a finger pointing at Husker. Husker was standing further away from her than made sense, considering that they had been having a conversation earlier. He was very rigid and had his wings flared out, but the way they were positioned looked off. Alastor couldn't for the life of him read his body language, which was strange.

Alastor, obviously, had appeared right beside him. Husker's sharp, orange eyes darted to him, but he stayed unnaturally still otherwise.

"I see I was right", Ishita said, smiling sweetly at Alastor. "Hello, Alastor. Such a displeasure to see you."

Alastor forced his eyes off of Husker and his weird behavior in order to focus on his enemy. He gave her a pleasant smile. "Ishita. Charming as always."

The rakshasa laughed, her voice sounding like daggers clinking together; beautiful and dangerous. "Now that the small talk is over with, why don't you return to me that which you have no doubt stolen? I know what you're after – you're very predictable."

Alastor's smile tightened. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, my dear."

After all, he didn't have it.

Suddenly Husker moved. Alastor didn't turn his eyes away from his enemy, but he saw from the corner of his eye how Husker's paw rose up to own his face, and-

Husker screamed from behind tightly closed lips as he pierced his own right eye with his deadly claws, blinding it and splattering blood and eyeball fluids everywhere.

Alastor turned towards him in pure alarm. "Husker!"

Husker's face and claws were covered in blood. He tilted his head back and positioned the bloody claws to his throat threateningly. His entire frame was shaking and his remaining eye was leaking tears of pain and fear.

"I'm only asking once more", Ishita's voice said from the background. "Return the item or your pretty little kitty will tear his own throat out."

Alastor turned towards Ishita. Her hand was still pointing at Husker, but now her claws were crooked the same way as Husker's.

She was somehow controlling him. If Alastor wanted to stop Husker from harming himself, he'd have to stop her.

"Let's not be hasty, my dear!" Alastor said, and lifted his hands up in a placating manner. "I didn't have the time to take anything. All your treasure is exactly where you left-"

"Wrong answer", Ishita said, and clenched her claws. Alastor heard a distressed gurgle from behind him, and felt something warm splash against his back-

Alastor gasped as he opened his eyes and looked at Husker, who stood unnaturally still but unharmed beside him.

Ishita laughed, her voice sounding like daggers clinking together; beautiful and dangerous. "Now that the small talk is over with, why don't you return to me that which you have no doubt stolen?"

What?

"Ishita, there is a misunderstand-" Alastor said, turning towards her.

That was a mistake.

He heard movement from behind him, and then felt long claws sink into his back painfully. He saw Husker's face from the corner of his eye before there were fangs on the side of his neck, piercing the flesh-

Alastor clutched at his throat as he opened his eyes. Husker stood unnaturally still beside him.

Ishita's laughter sounded like daggers clinking together. "Why don't you return to me that which you have no doubt stolen?"

"Wait! I don't have it!" Alastor said, turning halfway towards her.

He saw the movement as Husker jumped at him again. He brought his microphone stand up horizontally to block the attack, but then noticed that it now had sharp, jagged edges for some reason, like a saw, and they cut into Husker's flesh like a hot knife to butter-

Alastor opened his eyes. Husker was unnaturally still.

Ishita's laughter cut him like daggers. "Why don't you return to me-"

Alastor used his shadow path to appear next to Ishita before she could finish the sentence. However, she had a protective magical sphere around herself that blocked his attack, and Husker's large wings took him there in a matter of seconds, more agile than his age would let on, a flurry of claws-

Alastor opened his eyes, noticed that everything was the same again, and simply tackled Husker immediately. He tried to grab Husker's wrists to stop him from harming either one of them, but Husker's strong feet were equipped with the same deadly claws as his paws and his mouth was full of sharp fangs and he was much more flexible than Alastor could ever hope to be-

Alastor opened his eyes and used his shadow path to vanish to the roof of the mansion so that he could observe the situation and plan properly without provoking Ishita.

Ishita made Husker walk over to her and there was a lighting bolt that shot out from her finger right between Husker's eyes-

Alastor opened his eyes-

And blinked.

It was dark. He was lying down and there was a blanket tangled around his legs. He was breathing rapidly, his heart was beating fast, and he was drenched in sweat.

Husker was lying on the other end of the bed with his back towards Alastor. Ah, right. Alastor hadn't wanted to be touched, but had wanted the company. They were in Husker's room.

It had been a nightmare.

It hadn't been real.

Most of that had never even happened.

Just one of his recurring nightmares. The damned what-if rabbit hole where he couldn't save his sheik no matter what he tried.

This unreal spin for this particular dream had started shortly after the two of them had entered into a relationship.

After he had had to face the fact that he had manipulated Husker into working at the hotel the exact same way he had made him accompany him to Ishita's mansion.

After he had harshly been reminded of the lesson he should have learned decades ago but hadn't, and Husker had, again, suffered for Alastor's stupidity.

After Husker cemented his place in Alastor's damn _soul_ as the one absolutely irreplaceable person.

Alastor's eyes were glued to Husker's back, trying to discern whether he was breathing or not in the darkness. He didn't think he'd be able to deal with it if he went in for a hug and Husker was limp and cold to the touch like he had been-

Alastor focused on the fact that Husker's wings quivered softly with each breath he drew in and then exhaled. He was alive. He wasn't dead.

Probably. Maybe he imagined it and Husker would feel cold to the touch. Maybe there would be an entire week where Alastor would feel lonely and despairing and rotten and desperate, but Husker wouldn't hear him, couldn't talk to him and his fur came off in dead clumps when Alastor just wanted a small measure of comfort…

_'Husker, stop being dead, I need cuddles! Please wake up!'_

No. Focus. Husker was breathing. Just a nightmare. Breathing breathing breathing.

Alastor's smile was dangerously small and wobbly and he couldn't-

He crawled to Husker's side of the bed and brought a shaking hand to Husker's rising and falling side…

Warmth.

Husker was warm.

Alastor wrapped himself around Husker's warm and soft figure like an octopus, squeezing him with both his arms and legs, and pressing his face against the furry shoulder blades between the beautiful wings.

"Hnngh? Al? Whazzat?"

Alastor brought a hand up to stroke Husker's throat and under his chin, and got a contented sigh and quiet purring in return. Unsuspecting. Or too sleepy to question it.

Warm. Soft. Purring and slightly vibrating with it.

Alive.

Alastor pressed his face tighter against Husker's back and focused on the physical sensations, and nothing else.


	13. In sickness and in health

A/N: Prompt by Deskdraik:  
Did Alastor ever eat anything that made him sick? A pretty drabble with a sick Alastor.

I'm going with a generally sick Alastor because food poisoning is really gross and I don't feel like doing it.

This chapter happens well after they got together, but before they leave the hotel.

**Warning**: given the current situation, I feel like I need to warn that the story here is pretty similar to the pandemic at hand. Maybe skip this chapter if that bothers you.

* * *

Husk should have known better than to let his guard down. Sure, the hotel's inhabitants had gotten off very easy so far, and the ones who caught something were not his fucking business as long as they stayed in their damned rooms, but that should have been a warning sign rather than something to make him feel at ease.

It was the Plague Season, which meant that all kinds of fun little illnesses popped up left and right, and typically about two thirds of Hell spent some time sick. If you kept your distance and took precautions, you might avoid it – Husk usually did, as he had no problem staying home and avoiding the other motherfuckers that inhabited Hell with him. But if you caught something you would spend the next few days – or weeks – feeling various levels of awful, depending on what you contracted. Jolly good times.

And the problem at hand?

"I will not quarantine myself", Alastor said to Charlie, a grinny sneer on his fever-flushed face. He had had to ditch his coat and bow tie because of feeling too hot, but apparently he would much rather walk around under-dressed than stay in his room for a week or two. Not that Husk was complaining about that part, since he rather enjoyed looking at the natural shape of Alastor's shoulders more than he did the padded coat.

Husk kept on polishing the already clean and shiny glass in his paws, ears perked high to listen in on the conversation he was not actually a part of. It was only a matter of time that he was included, though. He would bet good money on that, even if he couldn't yet tell if it would be Alastor or Charlie who would inevitably drag him in. He'd have to observe more to figure that out.

"Alastor. The doctor dropped her diagnosis on my desk just now, and according to her you have the pneumonic plague. It's highly contagious and may actually be fatal to sinners of lesser strength. Please reconsider your stance!"

"The implication that I'm willing to inconvenience myself for the sake of the others is simply laughable, my dear. Two weeks of isolation and boredom while Niffty pushes in trays of food through a tiny gap in my door is not my idea of a good time. I will have to refuse."

Husk rolled his eyes. Alastor was breathing laboriously and leaning heavily on his microphone stand, but he was still unwilling to stay in his bed and let the sickness claim the victory. It was no doubt partially his pride stopping him from doing what he was told to do, but more than likely he also feared the loneliness it would cause.

Husk knew way too well that the lack of social contacts was the worst punishment you could throw at Alastor. And in this case it would include absolutely everyone: the hotel's inhabitants, the random demons on the streets, the people in the Cannibal Colony, Charlie, Niffty, Mimzy, Rosie… and Husk. Everyone.

Yeah, Alastor would much rather put everyone else at risk than put himself through that.

Husk sighed to himself as he awaited the inevitable. After all, he knew what the obvious fucking solution to this was going to have to be. Might as well resign himself to his fate.

On that note, he was putting his money on Charlie now. Alastor had made up his mind, so now it was up to her to make the next move.

"Fine. Let's do this the hard way", Charlie said, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed at Alastor. She turned towards the bar and locked her eyes with Husk's. Yep, here they fucking went. Good game. Who could he claim his winnings from?

Charlie marched over to Husk, a determined grin replacing the hard look she had given Alastor. She thought she was being clever, did she?

She was about to regret everything.

"Husk", she said, and leaned both of her palms on the table to give off an authoritative air. It might have worked on someone who cared more. It was plain cute how much she tried, really. "Please tell Alastor that he needs to quarantine himself for everyone's sake, including yours."

She really thought he could do that? Yes, Alastor was much more likely to do things that Husk requested over anyone else's wishes. But no, even he couldn't just snap his fucking claws and get perfect obedience when Alastor was clearly against something. Telling him to go and isolate himself for two-ish weeks was not a reasonable request.

Time to play his own hand.

"Sure", he said, and motioned for Alastor to come closer. He had already trailed after Charlie, but Husk needed him even nearer.

Alastor gave him an inquiring look, clearly trying to figure out his battle plan. If his brain wasn't fever-addled he might have been able to do it, but alas. He would just have to follow Husk's lead.

Husk let a small smirk show, and moved his eyes down to Alastor's lips, back up to his eyes again, down again, and up again. Alastor's expression morphed into understanding mixed with visible confusion, but – bless his damned soul – he stepped within Husk's reach despite not fully getting the plan, giving his consent to what was about to come next.

Husk gently grabbed his overly warm cheeks and, without further ado, planted a big, lingering kiss on his lips.

Charlie squeaked in pure shock in the background.

Husk pulled away from the kiss, patted Alastor's cheek lovingly, and then stretched and stood up. "Well then. That's a hundred percent chance of me having the fucking plague as well now. Come on, Al, let's go quarantine ourselves like responsible people. Your house or mine?"

Charlie sputtered vague denials, protests, and reprimands, but even she had to understand the futility of it at this point.

Alastor proceeded to cough his lungs out in a sorry attempt at laugher instead of giving Husk answers or magicking them away. He would probably need to lay the fuck down the instant they arrived to their destination.

Really though. With Alastor being the clingy jackass he was, Husk would have ended up with the plague sooner or later no matter what. Might as well get it out of the way and suffer together.

Now he just needed to survive two weeks stuck in the same house with Alastor, with both of them being varying levels of sick. Oh well. Sometimes sacrifices were necessary if you wanted to win big.


	14. About that tail

A/N: Prompt by Deskdraik:  
More with Alastor's tail.

This chapter happens between the last chapter of Fine, jackass! and the last chapter of Afterlife.

* * *

Alastor was nervous. He absolutely hated to admit it, but he was more nervous than he had been in a long while. A lot more nervous than the situation warranted, too.

It was ridiculous. Completely irrational. Thoroughly unnecessary. But not something he could help, apparently.

He sighed to himself and scratched the back of his right ear, which was absolutely not a private little nervous tick, thank you very much.

He could hear the clock in his room ticking, punctuating his need to make his decision, act on it, and stick with it. He didn't have all night if he wanted to do it right and not be a cowardly cheater who technically did it, but deliberately made it a secret that he did.

That, and Husker's request hadn't been to exist in the same space as Alastor's tail; it had been to see it.

See it again, to be precise. Husker had seen it once by accident. Shouldn't that make it easier? It wouldn't be a big reveal, it would simply be a show of being comfortable enough with his sheik to let it be visible.

He was the opposite of comfortable, however. He didn't let anyone see his tail, ever. It was too cute for someone of his status. It brought unwanted attention to his behind. It wagged when he got excited, shoot up when he was startled, sagged when he was nervous or disappointed, and had all kinds of other tells that he thoroughly despised displaying.

Most importantly, it had been grabbed way too many times when he had freshly arrived in Hell.

He sneered at the thought. He didn't appreciate unsolicited touching of any kind, but especially not anywhere below the belt line, or any unclothed part of himself. His tail filled both criteria. Needless to say, he had gotten very violent very fast in those situations.

But Husker? Husker wouldn't touch it. He had only expressed the desire to see it; there had been no mention of touching. The fact that Husker hadn't even brought up the fact that he had seen it for years spoke volumes of his understanding of how private it was. And even if Husker did desire to touch it, he would be respectful about it – Alastor knew this without a single doubt. It would be safe. Husker already thought he was cute, too, and it was acceptable enough for him to think that, so it wouldn't have a negative impact on Alastor's credibility. As for his tells… Husker could already read him very well most of the time, surprisingly so at times, so did it truly matter?

It was that knowledge, the unwavering trust he had in Husker, that made him consider displaying his tail tonight in the first place. And it was the fact that he had hid it from everyone, Husker included, for decades that made him nervous about it.

His mind was going in circles about it and he really didn't like it one bit.

Husker hadn't inquired about his tail even once during the few weeks they had officially been a couple. There had only been that one little mention in the initial list of things Husker wanted out of their relationship, and that was it. Alastor didn't have a deadline for it. Husker didn't know he was already considering it. He wasn't expecting it at this point. But it was in the list and Alastor wanted to be a good sheik for Husker, which meant following his guidance and instructions because Alastor didn't have a single clue how to go about this entire ordeal otherwise.

If seeing his tail was something Husker wanted, then he would get it. It was a very simple act, too.

A very simple little act that would bring them even closer by tearing down yet another wall between them. Another tangible difference to what their relationship had been before. A step forward.

Alastor wanted to take that step.

He took a calming breath, and let the magics hiding his tail become undone and let the red and black tuft of fur become visible to anyone who looked. He actually hadn't done that outside of the absolute privacy of his shower during his entire stay in the hotel – he hadn't wanted to risk it being visible if Charlie came knocking at his door for any reason – so it was decidedly odd.

It was kind of liberating, too. Almost like he was home.

With that calming thought he used his shadow path to appear in Husker's room, leaving his hesitation behind.

The lights in were on, illuminating the somewhat unkempt room, and the bed cover had been turned, so Husker should be around. However, he wasn't anywhere in sight. Alastor tilted his ears, and…

Yes, there came a sound brushing from the bathroom.

Alastor made his way over, and saw Husker running a familiar looking brush through his cheek tufts in front of the mirror cabinet. He looked as soft and cuddleable as always, and Alastor felt the rest of his anxiety unwind in his chest.

Husker's ears twitched towards his direction, and their eyes met via the mirror. Husker's pupils dilated a bit instantly, which was something that had been happening often lately.

"Good evening, Husker", Alastor said with his usual cheer, hands folded behind his back in a picture of faux innocence. "I have come to spend the night in your esteemed company, if you don't mind?"

Husker's eyes narrowed in blatant, well-placed and well practiced suspicion, and he turned around to look at him properly. Excellent. "Of course I don't, but that's some funny bullshit. You asking, that is."

Oh, noticed that right away, did he? That was just like Husker. And it had worked exactly the way Alastor had thought it might: Husker was facing him now.

It was time to go in for the kill.

"I'm always full of bushwa if you are to be believed, my dear", Alastor said with a purposefully light voice, and promptly turned back towards the bedroom with a bit of extra flair. He could feel Husker's eyes on him. "Take your time with your brushing. It wouldn't do for you to not be at your softest when I'm simply dying for a cuddle."

Just to be certain, he flicked his tail once as he stepped out of the bathroom.

He took one step, two steps, and then heard the sound of the mirror cabinet being opened and the brush being put away in a hurried manner. He chuckled to himself.

Why he had thought he needed to be nervous around Husker was beyond him now.


	15. In his shoes, part 1

A/N: Prompt by kitsushouten:  
Husk and Alastor accidental body swap before a super important hotel event! Hotel event can be a ball to impress investors or something? Or to welcome Charlie's DAD? OMG

This chapter happens after they got together but before they leave the hotel.

* * *

Husk fucking knew Alastor was up to mischief. His trouble-making sheik had been in a suspiciously cheerful mood since yesterday, and he had had that fucking Look on his face during the meeting two weeks back when Charlie announced the ridiculous event they were having today. The "I'm going to cause trouble on purpose as soon as I figure out the details" look.

Motherfucker.

Husk had been discreetly double-checking every single thing Alastor had had his hand in when it came to the preparations of the stupid event, but he hadn't found a single evidence of sabotage or any clues indicating a larger scale disaster in the works. Nothing was amiss. That didn't bode well.

It wasn't that he planned to stop him – he wasn't in the habit of ruining Alastor's fun – but he would have liked to be a smug asshole about figuring the plan out before it was enacted. That, and he didn't want to be caught in the crossfire if it was one of those 'fun for everyone" bullshit plans. But it looked like he was going to have to resign himself to a surprise.

He sighed deeply as he set down the punch bowl and left the ballroom. At least now all he had to do was dress sharply and show up in time, and then he could help himself to the punch and consider whether to enjoy the event or be grouchy about it. Both options had their merits.

He spared a glance towards Charlie and Vagatha, who were doing last minute preparations in the lobby, before heading upstairs. However, his ascension slowed when he spotted Alastor further up on a landing, staring intently at the girls with mischief written all over his face and stance.

Okay. So there it was, whatever it was. Not large scale then, and happening right now, so all his sleuthing had been for naught. Now he idly wished he had spent that time on literally anything else instead. Oh well.

He was admittedly still curious and wanted to see this shit first hand, so he opened his wings and crossed the rest of the way with two quick flaps. He dropped gracefully right next to Alastor.

"Hey-"

"Sacré couillon!" Alastor swore as he jumped, eyes wide, and a glowing hand thrust out at Husk in what he assumed was a reflex. It hit him squarely in the chest.

There was a strange ass sensation of someone pouring ice water all over his body, inside and out, and then his vision went out, and he found himself on his knees, one hand holding on to the barrister and the other gripping the side of his head. All he saw were black and white spots, so he closed his eyes to get his bearings

"Geez, what the fuck, Al?" he asked… and paused. That had been Alastor's voice, not his own. He opened his eyes again, and through the slowly diminishing layer of spots he saw himself on the floor a couple of feet away from him. He was sitting on his butt, legs spread ungracefully, hands against the floor to keep his balance, wings a complete mess, and tail flailing about in distress. His eyes were wide open and blinking rapidly, probably to dispel a case of spots of his own. His mouth was curved into a strange grin.

For a moment, Husk questioned his sanity. Another moment was spent in denial. Then his eyes focused on the weird fucking grin, and a hypothesis started forming in his mind.

He looked down at the body he was currently in, and was met with red clothes and lanky limbs. He brought the hand that had been clutching at his hair down and looked at it. Gloves of questionable taste covered Alastor's thin fingers, and said fingers wiggled under his command.

Well then. Fuck everything. He was fucking done. This was the worst damn bullshit Alastor had put him through in their decades of friendship and then some. He didn't particularly like his stupid cat body, but he didn't want to occupy another one without his consent, either. Especially not on the day when he was supposed to socialize and be somewhat presentable.

Honestly, he was somewhat mad on Charlie and Vagatha's behalf as well, since they had clearly been the intended targets.

"Okay, asshole", Husk said, and did his best to ignore the squeaky radio voice coming from his mouth. "Undo this bullshit this fucking instant."

Husk saw himself, or presumably Alastor in his body, look at him, grin straining. Now, reading Alastor's expressions on his own fucking face was hard, but a strained grin never meant anything good. Shit.

"I'm afraid I'm unable to do that, my dear", Alastor said, and did his voice really sound like that? Or was it just hearing it through Alastor's ears that made it sound different from usual? Either way, it was really fucking strange to hear it like this. "I'm relatively certain all my power resides in the body you're currently occupying – that is one of the intended effects in this particular trick. So unless you reverse this, we're stuck like this until midnight."

...What.

"I'm going to murder you first thing in the morning, bastard", Husk growled, pointing a finger at Alastor. "And that is after I spend all of today wanking away with your dick, just to hammer in how messed up this situation is."

Of course he wasn't actually going to do that, but he was mad as fuck and Alastor deserved to have a little panic to compensate. Specifically the kind of panic where he hopefully realized that messing with peoples' bodily autonomy was not fucking okay.

He stood up, holding onto the barrister to balance himself – suddenly no longer having a heavy set of wings on his back after fifty fucking years wasn't doing any favours to his ability to walk in fucking heels. Fucking heels! Why did his bitchass motherfucker of a-

"No!" Alastor yelled, and scrambled to get up with very little success, wings and tail flapping all over the place in a chaotic manner and knocking him off-balance and back down. His eyes were wide in genuine alarm and his ears were turned back, and Husk felt actually bad now, despite this being exactly what he had wanted. Shit. "Don't-"

"For fuck's sake, Al", he said, and ran a hand over his face in exasperation. Even that felt fucking weird, and he almost knocked the ridiculous monocle off in the process. "Of course I'm not really doing that. I'm mad at you, but not the worst person in existence."

He peeked through his fingers at Alastor, who stopped trying to get up and fixed his eyes firmly on the floor instead. His ears perked up high again after a second, but his wings were broadcasting his discomfort very clearly by being ruffled, and his tail was whipping around. The poor bastard had apparently no control over them, which shouldn't have come as a surprise, as it had taken Husk a long time to master that himself.

...This was going to be a long day.

Husk sighed, lifted a foot up, pulled the stupid high-heeled shoe off, and then repeated the process with his other foot. He tossed the shoes wherever, and carefully walked over to Alastor. He may be used to having wings and a long tail nowadays, but he had walked the earth without them for seventy years; he could adapt to doing that again. He stopped in front of Alastor and held out a hand.

"Come on. We got a stupid event to attend, so let's teach you to fucking walk, shall we?"

Today was going to be a very, very long fucking day.


	16. In his shoes, part 2

A/N: Prompt by Calliecature:  
Husk and Alastor pretending to be each other. Either charades or whatever kind of circumstances. Bonus if we get to see each other's reactions.

I took this prompt as an excuse to continue the previous chapter : D

* * *

The event was going about as well as one would expect. Charlie had invited a lot of wealthy and influential people her father was acquaintanced with, and only one showed up. She had plastered a lot of posters all around the city to invite sinners who wished to be redeemed, and what she got was party crashers who didn't seem the type to be genuinely interested. She had enthusiastically asked the current residents to show up and be exemplary, and only Angel Dust showed, far from exemplary in his questionable attire consisting of a scandalously tiny dress and a large wig. What was a surprising victory was that Lucifer himself showed up, against all odds – although given the rest of the disaster, it may not count as a victory. The event most definitely didn't paint the hotel in a good light.

Now, usually this would be peak entertainment for Alastor. But the fact was that he was having a really difficult time enjoying any of it.

Husker and he had spent the roughly one hour they had had before the event trying and failing to teach Alastor how to operate in Husker's body. The wings were too heavy and opened up on their own whenever he swayed too much, and the long tail kept spinning like a propeller in an attempt to keep him balanced. None of it worked out at all to keep him from tipping over. The end result was that Alastor's newly found wings had been tied against his body with a red string to eliminate the biggest problem he had. They dressed him a red vest to hide the string and tried to make it look like the wings were just tightly folded, but it still looked unnatural.

Husker hadn't been able to dress in the outfit Alastor had prepared for himself, because Alastor didn't want Husker undressing his body. So he had simply picked a fancier coat that went alright with the rest of his usual outfit, and he was wearing an awfully clashing pair of low-heeled dance shoes to go with it, because he refused to wear anything with high heels.

And right then? The two of them were walking through the ballroom arm in arm, Husker wearing an awful outfit and a forced smile, and Alastor struggling to keep his tail in check while his wings felt uncomfortable in their binds. They were probably a right sight to be seen.

"Quit fucking grinning, bitch", Husker whispered as they neared the buffet table. "Or else I'll leave you at the table to brood alone. That would at least be in character. ...Speaking of which. I meant, cease your grinning, _my dear_."

Ah, right. And Husker was still mad at him, even if he was willing to put it aside for now to get through the evening together. For the most part.

It was pure bushwa.

"An attempt will be made, my-", Alastor said, received a glare, and backpedaled. "I will try. ...Motherfucker."

His mouth wanted to curl up and die.

Husker's grin widened into a much more natural look of amusement. Even if it was at his expense, it was still an improvement to the situation.

"Better, darling", Husker said, and it sounded only a little off. Husker handed him a glass of punch, and Alastor did his best to hold it with the rigid, difficult to use claws he currently had for fingers. How Husker managed to do magic tricks or even hold a pen with these things was beyond Alastor's understanding.

"Good evening, mister Radio Demon", a voice sounded from behind them, making both of them tense immediately.

Lucifer.

Of all the rotten luck.

Husker shared a panicked look with him, and then slipped his arm out of the hold, leaving Alastor to quickly grab the edge of the table to make sure his balance held. Husker turned around to face Lucifer, a wide smile plastered all over his face.

"Ahh, Lucifer! What a pleasure!" Husker said, a little too loudly but passably enough.

Alastor maneuvered himself around to watch the situation, all the while leaning against the table as discreetly as he could. He then brought the glass of punch to his lips, mostly to hide his expression and to keep himself from saying anything and blowing their cover.

"I must say, I'm surprised to see you still sticking around to help my daughter with her little project", Lucifer said with a mild smile, looking Husker up and down for a moment, and then doing the same with Alastor, although in a much more cursory manner. Judging. Unimpressed, if Alastor read him right. Why must this happen tonight?

"What can I say?" Husker said, grin straining and expression betraying his nervousness blatantly. This would be a hell to fix later. "I'm always willing to do some fuc- _fun_ charity in the name of alleviating the sheer boredom around here. Dearie."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. Alastor took an actual gulp from his punch. A large one.

"I see", Lucifer said, and then turned to look at Alastor, whose wings instantly attempted to flare out and were only held back by the string binding them. "And you must be… Husker, was it?"

Husker was going to murder him for the fact that that was the name Lucifer knew for him. He didn't need to look to know that he was being glared at.

He set his glass down to buy himself time to think of an answer that would sound like something Husker would say. He was painfully aware of the smile on his lips that was not supposed to be there, but that he couldn't help.

What would Husker say?

"Husk to you, bitch", he said. And froze.

Husker made a choking noise.

Oh no.

Lucifer looked at him blankly.

No no no!

Alastor could feel his wings quivering in their binding and his tail felt like it had goosebumps.

He did not just call Lucifer a-

Lucifer burst out laughing.

...Wait, what?

Alastor and Husker traded shocked looks.

Lucifer clapped a hand on Alastor's shoulder and leaned against him while he kept on laughing for an alarmingly long while. Neither Alastor or Husker moved or said anything.

Everyone in the room was staring at them. Charlie looked like she was having a stroke.

Lucifer leaned back and wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, and then smiled widely at Alastor. "I can see why Alastor chose you out of everyone in Hell."

He then turned to look at Husker, who had a blank look on his face. At least he was still smiling. "This one's a keeper. Put a ring on it."

Still chuckling, Lucifer left them to go see his visibly anxious daughter.

Alastor and Husker stood in silence for a while, watching Lucifer's retreating back. Then Husker turned towards him.

"Everything is forgiven. That was the best fucking moment of my afterlife", he said, deadpan.

Alastor's wings chose that moment to break the flimsy string keeping them in check, burst open to their full span, and sweep half the contents of the buffet table onto the floor in a loud crash.

His arms and tail propelled wildly in a futile attempt to keep him standing, but in the end he overbalanced and tipped forward into Husker's arms, and Husker proceeded to hold onto him while busting a lung laughing.

Alastor listened to his laughter and smiled to himself. Yes, there would be damage control to be done at a later time, but perhaps the evening wasn't so bad after all.


	17. One damn word

**A/N:** Prompt by MudTrash:  
You know that thing multilingual people can do where they forget a word in one language, and so they just start saying the word in another language they know over and over, praying someone can tell them the word they're thinking of? Imagine a drunk/tipsy Husk is talking to Alastor like normal and then suddenly he SOMEHOW forgets a word in English. So he's cycling with the word through all the languages he knows getting more pissed by the second and Alastor speaks none of them and can only watch Husk slowly slip into madness.

This chapter happens between chapter 11 of Afterlife and chapter 4 of Fine, jackass!

Also, a big thank you for everyone who helped me with the languages!

* * *

Husk slapped his paw against the table and tossed his head back as he laughed at his own fucking story without a care in the world. He was the exact right amount of drunk to be in a story-telling mood, with his best friend by his side as an appreciative audience. Going to one of the better pubs with Alastor was honestly one of his favourite things to do, and he was enjoying tonight to the full extent.

"Okay, so fucking listen", he said after he was done laughing. He took a drink from his ale to wet his throat, and grinned at Alastor, who looked suitably amused and entertained. "After that shit, they were all just standing there fucking gob-smacked, and this idiot had the smuggest fucking grin on his face! He didn't even realize he was being a… uhh…"

He blinked in confusion. What the hell was the word again? He knew what he wanted to say on a conceptual level, but his mind completely blanked out on him and refused to grant him the actual word he needed.

Shit, he hated it when this happened.

He shook his head and cleared his throat, deciding to simply try again. With any luck the word would come to him on the second try.

"So, as I was saying, the fucking moron didn't seem to even get that he was being a…" No. Fuck, no! Come on now, brain! Try to fucking work with him! "A plain... you know, when someone's being a… fuck… shit fucking damn it! Why is the damned word eluding me right now, what the actual fuck?"

He threw his hands in the air in frustration and tried to think. He knew the fucking word, he knew he did. He knew several words for the same thing even. It was ridiculous to not remember any of them. He had a large fucking vocabulary and an excellent memory! He didn't speak six fucking languages just to-

Oh! There it was!

"Он был помехой!" Husk yelled in triumph, pointing a claw at Alastor.

Alastor had a blank look on his face. There was no sign of comprehension or co-triumph for his success anywhere.

"I'm sorry, Husker, but I don't speak Russian", Alastor said, tone even sounding slightly apologetic for once, even though the jackass was obviously very amused. "The only reason I have a passing familiarity with how it sounds like is because you speak it at times."

Fuck damn it!

"Of course you fucking don't", Husk muttered, and snapped his claws a few times while trying to wrack his brain for the damned word.

Come on, come the fuck on…!

"障碍", he tried, as Mandarin was the next language to pop in his drunken mind. It was the most spoken language in the world, so…

Alastor looked completely lost now. "I don't even know what language that was."

Of all the uncultured-

"Un estorbo", he said, and gave Alastor an expectant look. Surely Spanish would be understandable? Half the people in the States spoke Spanish or was at least somewhat familiar with it.

Alastor frowned – that is, his eyebrows scrunched together and his smile got smaller, which counted as a frown for him – like he tried his hardest to understand. Ultimately he shook his head.

Damn it! Okay, how about… "Ein Hindernis."

Everyone who didn't choose Spanish as an optional language during their schooling picked German instead, right?

Alastor shook his head. "The only other language I speak is French. Louisiana French, at that. Whatever you said just now was complete gibberish to me."

Fuck that noise! Why did Alastor have to speak a language he didn't instead of conveniently understanding something he did speak? Fine. Fuck. Italian was close to French, maybe that would work? He was going to merrily ignore the Spanish he had already attempted, which had actually had a better shot and had still failed.

"Un ostacolo!"

"That is still not French, dear. Similar languages aren't as helpful as one would think. Maybe if you wrote it-"

Husk let loose a long line of colourful swear words, starting with one language, continuing in another, and going through every language he spoke and a few he actually didn't.

Alastor looked impressed now. "Was all of that swearing only? You actually had some French there. I could teach you some Creole swears if you'd like. Just because I don't swear much doesn't mean I don't know the words for it."

Husk glared at him, although admittedly without much heat. He had let his frustration out with the string of swears for the most part, and more importantly… He had already forgotten why he had needed the word he had been searching for in the first place. He had been telling a story, but fuck him if he remembered what it had been anymore.

For fuck's sake.

His ears pinned back and his tail whipped against both his and Alastor's legs as he sulked while finishing his ale in silence.

Alastor watched him for a long while, and finally hailed a waiter over and ordered them new drinks. While waiting for their drinks, he summoned a notepad and a pen and scribbled something down. He then nudged Husk's shoulder, and slid the notepad in front of Husk's nose. It had French words in it.

Husk stared at the words, and then raised an eyebrow at a widely grinning Alastor.

"Do you want to know what they mean and hear how they're pronounced?" Alastor asked, mischief in his pretty red eyes.

…

Husk sighed, and returned the smile with a small one of his own.

He could always tell his story some other time, he supposed.


	18. High walls

A/N: Prompt by P-lom:  
How about Alastor's POV of one of these scenes?:  
-Ch. 6 of Afterlife (specifically, when he tells Husk he knows he's a handful)

So. As the prompt states, this happens during Afterlife chapter 6 (and a little bit in ch 7).

Alternative chapter title: Alastor dealing with his hella squish on this cat.

* * *

Alastor watched discreetly as Husk scarfed down the freshly made Po' boy like he had never had food in his entire life. From what Alastor had observed today, he probably _had_ gone without proper food for a while now, even if not quite that long. There had been nothing in the fridge when he put the excess ingredients away, Husk had clearly been starving when he ran into him behind the Hellmart, and now that Alastor had the time to really look he noticed that Husk's fur had lost its luster and was shedding more than usual. How long had he been on a poor diet? A couple of days? A few days? Had it been longer than a week? Had he already been eating poorly when Alastor last saw him?

Why hadn't he said anything? Asked Alastor for help?

It was because he wasn't sure if that was an acceptable thing to do, wasn't it?

Honestly, befriending this cat was a challenge and a half as he had a tiresome habit of resisting it every step of the way. Yes, he was clearly allowing friendship to happen despite the resistance, but he had walls so thick and high that Alastor couldn't help but wonder if he would be able to reach the top in this afterlife or even the next.

But he wanted to. Oh, how much he wanted to. Husk was quite honestly the most fascinating person Alastor had met in a long while, and he wasn't going to give up. There was just something about him that had Alastor endlessly captivated and made him want to learn what made him tick. Something about his gruff attitude, his keen intellect that he seemed to try to hide at times, the warmth that he definitely attempted to cloak in profanities and dismissive words…

He was perfect. Alastor could just tell that this creature here would make a loyal and fun friend if only he allowed him in. He was lazy and wary, but he was clever and patient. He didn't like coming out of his comfort zone, but he _could_ be coaxed out and he adapted beautifully to any circumstances thrown at him. He let Alastor push and prod him, but only if he wasn't actually against what was happening.

He would be able to keep up with Alastor when he wanted to, but he didn't seem to feel like he had to, as he was mostly content to simply go with the flow at his own pace. He would let Alastor be the hurricane to clear up the path, and then he would catch up with him afterwards. Or he might even open his magnificent wings and glide along when it suited him. But he didn't exhaust himself running alongside it, like most people did until it became too much for them.

Husker was without a doubt the kind of friend his mother had told Alastor to look for when people kept leaving him for easier friendships. Friendships with someone who wasn't as weird and exuberant as Alastor. Friendships that didn't get them in trouble. Friendships that were less exhausting.

Husker could be his ticket out of eternal loneliness.

He just needed to make Husk understand this, too. He needed Husk to know this wasn't a game and he wasn't a temporary source of amusement. He needed Husk to realize he could rely on him and trust him. He _needed_ Husk to understand he was in this for the long haul and he would do next to anything to make this work.

Husker couldn't turn out to be another person who left. He just couldn't.

Alastor noticed that Husk was finally done eating, so he cleared his throat to gain his attention. Husk turned his now much livelier eyes on him, giving him a questioning look.

"Just so you're aware, Husk", Alastor said, feeling reassured from the way Husk focused his attention entirely on him and nothing else. "You can ask me for help if you're in a jam. You can ask favors of me. There will only be consequences if I outright say so, and you have the option to change your mind at that point."

Hah, there would be no consequences. He only tacked that part on because he didn't want Husk to get defensive and suspicious from getting too good a deal. Nobody ever believed him if he seemed too generous. But with Husk? He couldn't think of a single circumstance where he would feel the need to ask for something in return for anything Husk asked of him, at least nothing other than a steadfast friendship.

"I'm actually right aware of the fact that I'm not easy to get along with", he said. "I have… an exhausting personality, as someone once put it."

He couldn't blame Mimzy for her words. She wasn't the only person to have said something to that effect, and she was correct with her words. He considered himself lucky she still stayed by his side, even if they had to keep a certain distance for both of their sakes. He hoped such a distance wouldn't be required with Husker.

"Yours seems to be the polar opposite, so it must be even harder for you than it was for her", he continued. "I will not apologize for it, but I consider you putting up with my whacky behavior to be plenty enough payback for practically anything you'll have the guts to ask of me at this point."

He watched as Husk's expression went from baffled to thoughtful, and then he could almost see the questions popping into his friend's mind one after another as concern etched itself onto Husk's features.

Husk understood. Maybe. At the very least he seemed to be on his way there and made the attempt. That was more than most people were willing to do.

Alastor felt his shoulders relax as an invisible weight was lifted from them. He had said his piece and now it was up to Husk to think it through and accept the offered hand. He could take his time.

ooooo

"I was fucking lonely, okay?" Husk muttered, avoiding eye-contact, soft looking ears turned back, and his tail sweeping the ground agitatedly. "I was going spare in my stupid house but nothing I usually do felt right. I couldn't concentrate on anything other than needing to see you, since you're my only fucking friend. I suppose I could have drank myself into a stupor but-"

Alastor pulled Husker into a side-hug, clutching his precious friend against his side in a feeble attempt to match the warm tightness he felt constraining his chest – the overwhelming emotions that he didn't really know what to do with, but felt this to be an appropriate outlet for.

His hand had finally been accepted and he could simply die from happiness.


	19. Witness

A/N: Prompt by Okadiah:  
Maybe Alastor gets comfortable showing Husk his tail and forgets it's out one day, and gets harassed (or something) about it, and Husk gets protective? If you feel up to it, that could be violent and cute :]

I'm kinda just using the very general idea here instead of doing exactly as asked, but well, this is how it wanted to be written.

This chapter happens not long before they leave the hotel.

* * *

It was a pleasant morning. Husk had woken up with a cuddly Alastor glued to his side, he didn't have a hangover – or at least it was mild enough to not even count – and now he was watching Alastor brush his adorable ears with Husk's brush, unknowingly mixing a few grey cat hairs into his own red fur. Husk was absolutely not going to inform him of this, of course, because it was so fucking dumb and precious that he wanted it to be an everyday occurrence, please and thank you.

Even Alastor's tail almost paled in comparison to the cuteness of this scene. Almost.

Husk's eyes traveled downwards to look at the red and black tuft of fur that was visible whenever Alastor spent the night in his room nowadays. It was always a captivating sight and he half hoped to never get used to it, while half hoping for Alastor to get so comfortable with him that it'd be out by default whenever they were alone. He wondered if that would be the case once they left the hotel behind and returned to their normal afterlives?

"Husker, you're staring", Alastor said, sounding more amused than annoyed. He put the brush away and looked at Husk with a raised eyebrow.

Husk grinned back at him and wiggled his eyebrows in response to Alastor's raised one. "Just a little. May I touch, too?"

Alastor chuckled, and gave his tail an inviting little wag before stepping closer to Husk. "Yes, but we must go to work, so make it quick."

Husk gave Alastor's cheek a peck and brought a paw down to card his claws through the illegally fluffy little thing. He made sure to not touch the base of it, as Alastor didn't like that, but otherwise he helped himself to the softness. It was quite honestly fucking ridiculous how attracted he was to a tail of all things, but Hell had skewed his sense of what was hot years ago, so what the fuck ever.

He noticed that Alastor was oh-so-casually inching towards the door, so he shuffled along while keeping his paw glued to the tail, trying to hold in his laughter at how silly the entire thing was.

He was so utterly and hopelessly in love with this jackass that it was absolutely fucking ludicrous.

Alastor opened the door and the two of them continued their tomfoolery out into the hallway. Husk could see Alastor's shoulders tremble as his much beloved idiot started snickering while evidently making a valiant effort to follow Husk's example of not laughing.

And then there was a dull 'thud' behind them that made both of them freeze.

Husk turned around and saw Sharon, a porcupine demon and one of the hotel's guests, staring at them with wide eyes, a cell phone laying on the floor in front of her and her hands positioned like she had been holding it and typing something just a second earlier. Her eyes were looking down at-

Husk automatically retreated his paw from Alastor's tail-

Oh.

Shit.

Red sigils at the edge of his vision was the only warning Husk had before Alastor appeared right in front of Sharon, grabbed her by her throat with both hands, and slammed her against the wall. His eyes were radio dials and his visage was murderous.

Fucking hell damn shit bitch motherfucker!

"Al, stop!" Husk said, leaped up to the pair, and grabbed a hold of Alastor's wrist, making him instinctively loosen his hold for about a second before going right back to strangling the poor girl. "I'm serious! Listen! Do not fucking kill her or I swear to fucking God-"

Alastor growled at him, but loosened his hold enough for Sharon to gasp for breath and start coughing while still being held in a grip that could go back to deadly any moment.

"Husker. She cannot live. She has seen too much." Alastor's voice was distorted and Husk could almost see the air around him crackle and glitch. Actually, he wasn't sure if he didn't really see it.

"I get it", Husk said calmly. "But we need to think this through. Take us back to my room, or to yours, or literally anywhere that isn't this hallway where someone else can walk in on us and we'll fucking plan, okay?"

Alastor's grin narrowed, but the next moment they were in…

Fucking hell, they were in Alastor's basement. This was not a pleasant place to be, especially for random demons like Sharon. Shit. Alastor had clearly made up his mind already.

"Now talk", Alastor said, and at least his fucking eyes were back to normal and he looked more composed. He had also released his hold of Sharon, but she was instead trussed up and gagged on the floor.

And this morning had started so well, too.

Husk took a deep, fortifying breath. Fuck, he wished he was drunk.

"Charlie will notice if she disappears without a trace", Husk said, and crossed his arms, giving Alastor a level look. "You are literally the first person on the list of suspects, whether you like it or not. Are you sure you can't just… scare Sharon into never breathing a word? You really don't have any dirt on her that you could hold over her head to ensure her silence? You don't have any memory erasing magic shit or know someone who does?"

Alastor glared at him. "Even if one of your options was viable, I don't trust those solutions. I could threaten or blackmail her into silence, but she could still have the information tortured or drugged out of her. And no, there is no such thing as memory erasing magic, Husker, don't be absurd. If that existed Hell would be quite a different place, don't you think?"

Alastor had a point. A dubious one, but still a point.

Husk sighed, and looked at Sharon, who was giving him the pleading eyes – she was obviously well aware that he was her only ticket out of this. Maybe she was hoping to appeal to his mushy fucking heart by looking cute and innocent and whatnot. Maybe she was hoping to make him feel guilty, because technically this situation was his fault and she honestly bore none of the blame. Obviously she was under the impression that Husk could talk the Radio Demon out of murder if he tried hard enough.

Too fucking bad for her that his loyalties lied elsewhere.

"...Do you still have that hedgehog guy on your list of fools?" Husk asked, turning to look at Alastor again.

"Yes?"

"Make his spines longer, voice higher, and dress him in Sharon's clothes. He can have a cute little cry-fest at the front desk and run the fuck out of the hotel. In case anyone asks anything, I can confirm it was her…"

He was so utterly and hopelessly in love with this jackass that he was willing to cover up a murder just so said jackass could keep a fluffy little secret. He truly belonged in Hell, didn't he?

The beaming smile he got for his efforts made it all fucking worth it.


	20. A white feather

**A/N**: Prompts by Knigthfire AND Spookydazechaos  
Al notices a pure white feather on one of Husk's wings, and suddenly finds himself wondering (in horror, perhaps), if redemption is a possibility after all.  
My friend knightfire and i both would like to see a story with Al worrying about the possibility of Husk getting redeemed and leaving hell

Joint prompt! Cute~

This chapter happens sometime during their last couple of months at the hotel, and may or may not have been Alastor's cue to go "I suppose we're about done here".

* * *

The morning had started like any other. Alastor had woken up and gotten himself ready for the day. He had dropped by Charlie's office to see if she needed anything specific done today, and then had gone to the buffet room for breakfast while planning out his schedule. Afterwards he had patrolled the hallways for a while and had then checked on a few patrons who needed daily supervision to stay on the path towards their supposed redemption. Finally he had just made his way to the garden to see if there was anything in the greenhouse that he'd like to see on his dinner plate today, when a shadow minion appeared to inform him that Husker had situated himself at the front desk.

Smiling widely to himself, Alastor ditched the vegetables and appeared by his sheik's side.

"Good morning, my dear!" Alastor said cheerfully, pulled his fluffy cat into an embrace, and kissed the tip of his nose. Husker was purring quietly by the time Alastor leaned back, and generally looked happy today. That had been the trend lately, and Alastor couldn't be more pleased. "I see you're content today?"

Husker had a smile on his lips and his pupils were dilated as he looked at Alastor. "Very. It's almost the weekend and so far it's been nice and quiet here for the entire week. Just gotta last one more fucking day. You're taking a day off as well, right?"

The tone of Husker's voice suggested that he had something in mind. Alastor's interest was immediately piqued. "That is correct."

"Then how about you preen my wings tonight, and we go flying tomorrow?"

Words couldn't describe how excited Alastor got at the suggestion. Flying with Husker was a rare treat, and one he wouldn't pass in a million years. He loved preening Husker's wings as well, because while touching his wings was generally allowed, it was still one of the few things that was off the table sometimes, and Husker usually got uncomfortable if the petting lasted too long even when it was allowed. Preening meant guaranteed quality time with the gorgeous feathers.

"Certainly! That sounds like a wonderful idea that I will happily anticipate. I shall see you tonight, then."

Husker nodded, looking pleased, and Alastor released his hold on him. Husker recognized a dismissal when he saw one, and turned his back to Alastor to begin working.

That was when Alastor's world came to a screeching halt.

In the middle of the plumage of Husker's left wing was a white feather.

A white feather.

Husker didn't have white feathers. The tips of his tail feathers were white, yes, but that was it; no actual fully white feathers. This wasn't normal.

The contrast between the intruder and the normal red and black feathers surrounding it was so stark that the feather looked like it was glowing in its pure, bright, alien whiteness.

Hold on.

A pure, glowing white feather.

Like an angel's feather.

Alastor's heart dropped and his lungs emptied of air. He felt dizzy and there was a ringing in his ears.

The implication behind an angel's feather when they resided in a hotel that was supposed to redeem sinners…

Husker had been so happy lately…

Content with his afterlife and more at peace with himself than Alastor had ever witnessed in their decades of friendship…

So untroubled that Alastor couldn't remember the last time he had drunk himself into a real stupor…

What if…

What _if_…

No. It was ludicrous.

They had been at the hotel for nearly two years now and nobody had gotten redeemed. Yes, some sinners had had a lot of personal growth, and some had cut off their bad habits, but nobody had ascended to Heaven.

It wasn't possible.

...Right?

Alastor stared at the white feather, and for the first time since he came here felt his certainty crack.

What if it _was_ possible?

What if Husker turned out to be the person who defied the odds, who broke the status quo, who… ascended…

No.

No, Husker couldn't do that. He wasn't allowed to. He would not leave Alastor and go to Heaven. That wasn't acceptable.

But what if that _was_ happening? He couldn't afford to dismiss the possibility. Not when it could potentially mean losing Husker due to inaction.

If it was happening, how was Alastor supposed to stop it?

He needed to stop it.

But how?

...If Husker's happiness was what was causing him to find peace, and said peace was allowing him to ascend…

Alastor struggled to keep his smile up as he wrestled with his urge, want, desire to make his Husker as happy as he possibly could, and his need, must, necessity to keep him by his side forever. He had never thought those two needs would clash – in fact he had always considered them mutually inclusive – but right then they were clashing badly and he was floundering.

How was he supposed to choose between his own happiness and Husker's? Especially when Husker's happiness was essential to his own?

But to make him stay…

Could he find a balance where Husker was happy but not too happy? Not happy enough to go to Heaven?

Could he?

He could and would gleefully annoy Husker on purpose for the fun of it. He could and would rile him up to a certain extent just to make him livelier at times. He most certainly did things Husker didn't like all the time, because as long as it didn't directly involve him Husker didn't get to tell him what to do. But to actively make Husker unhappy? Purposefully make him feel bad? Deliberately sap away any amount of joy from his afterlife? Ruthlessly keep him from achieving maximum happiness at all times?

He couldn't. He simply couldn't to that. His Husker should always be as happy as possible at the given moment.

But then what-

"Al?"

Alastor startled back into the reality outside of his own head, and saw Husker looking over his shoulder at him. He quickly fixed his smile back to a presentable state, but the frown that appeared on Husker's face as he turned around was clear indication that his slip had been noticed.

"Is something wrong?" Husker asked, worried orange eyes searching Alastor's face for clues.

"Ah, that is… up for debate yet", Alastor answered, knowing better than to outright lie when Husker had caught him red handed. He cleared his throat, and forcefully pushed his admittedly slightly panicked thoughts from earlier back for now.

With Husker facing him, he could no longer see the terrifying white feather.

...On that note, did Husker…?

"By the way, I saw an anomaly in your plumage just now", Alastor said, keeping his voice light. "Have you noticed it yourself?"

Husker gave him a suspicious look, quite clearly thinking he was changing the subject, but undecided on whether to run with it or not. Poor dear had no idea.

"...You're gonna have to elaborate", Husker finally said, and crossed his arms. His tail was twitching, and Alastor knew it was allowed to openly do that just so Alastor would know he was, as Husker put it, 'on thin fucking ice'. Duly noted.

"A white feather", Alastor said, and did his very best to keep a neutral face. And to keep his brain carefully focused on Husker's face and not let his thoughts wander.

Husker looked at him blankly for a moment, and then scoffed. "That's all? Tell me something I don't fucking know. You get to pluck it tonight, problem solved."

That was way more blasé a reaction than Alastor had expected and it threw him for a loop. "Pardon moi?"

Husker raised his eyebrows. "White feathers happen sometimes. I don't fucking know if it's Hell's way to remind me that I'm an old bastard or if it's my wings getting confused about which of my colouration to use for shit, but it's certainly not fucking news. I pluck 'em off when I notice 'em and move on."

...It was normal. It had presumably happened at times before they came to the hotel. Husker wasn't shocked or concerned. He wasn't ascending to Heaven. Redemption wasn't possible.

It was _normal_.

Alastor laughed, threw an arm around Husker's shoulders, and squeezed him tightly. "Is that so? I can most certainly pluck it for you! I think I'll keep it, even. It's not nearly as exquisite as your regular feathers, but it's beautiful in its own right."

Husk's ears turned slightly back and his shoulders hunched, yet a little smile rose on his lips. "Shut the fuck up, you mushy jackass."

Husker wasn't going to leave him.

"Never."


	21. Recruiting

**A/N:** Prompt by Calliecature:  
Alastor somehow finds out that one of the demon overlords tried to recruit Husk to spy on him after it was known that Husk is his friend. When confronted, Husk refuses to name which demon lord did.

This chapter happens between chapter 6 of Fine, jackass! and chapter 12 of Afterlife.

* * *

Husk had known this would happen sooner or later. He had known _both_ of the things would happen sooner or later, and naturally shortly after one another. It had quite honestly been a fucking inevitability, and perhaps it was kind of a good thing to get it out of the fucking way. He didn't have to like it, but he would take the silver linings where he got them.

It had started with a fucking phone call about a week ago.

ooooo

"Husk speaking, who the fuck is this?"

"_Greetings, Mr. Husker_", a slow, sleazy sounding voice said. Something about it made his fur stand on end. "_This is Valentino speaking. I'm sure you're familiar with the name._"

Shit. Fuck. Shit shit shit.

"Might have heard of you in passing once or twice", Husk said, keeping his voice calm and collected and ignoring the way his tail was poofing up like a fucking duster – he was alone in his home, so the tell didn't matter. "What the fuck do you want?"

There was an ominous chuckle. Funnily enough it made Husk feel calmer, because it made him think of Alastor, who would chop this motherfucker into soup ingredients if he got wind of this conversation. Yeah, this bitch wasn't half as intimidating as the fucking Radio Demon, and Husk had been snuggled up to said jackass just a couple of days ago while watching a movie.

When one fucking cuddled with the scariest fucker around, one had little need to be intimidated by the smaller fries.

"_Ah, the better question is: what would __**you**__ like?_" Valentino asked. "_I simply wish to have an occasional conversation with you about a certain mutual acquaintance, confidential between two good friends. I'm a generous person whose friendship can be very beneficial. You, my good man, are in a position where you get to name your price. So what will it be?_"

...Was this fucker for real? He really thought he could pay Husk to… to get him info about Alastor? Delusional. First of all, betraying the fucking Radio Demon was simply suicidal, end of story. Secondly, Husk betraying Alastor was not in the fucking cards, even if he actually _was_ feeling suicidal. There was nothing in the entirety of Hell that he desired more than Alastor's presence in his afterlife, and there was nothing he could be threatened with to make him jeopardize that – he didn't fucking care about himself enough to give a damn about threats.

That, and Alastor had made it extremely fucking clear that he would annihilate the entirety of Hell if something happened to Husk, so Valentino would have to be really fucking stupid to threaten him In the first place.

Husk huffed.

"How about you go fuck yourself with a barbed baseball bat and die in a ditch, you over-sized fucking cockroach. You have nothing to offer me", he said, and hung up.

He summarily ignored any and every phone call for the next few days.

Alastor called him with the radio, after all.

ooooo

After that little episode Husk had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Alastor was a snoop and a gossip, so it was really only a matter of-

"Husker, my pally old pal", Alastor said, materializing into Husk's personal space and latching onto him immediately like the limpet he was. Yep, today was it.

"Hey, Al."

"I heard a curious little rumor", Alastor said without further ado, and adjusted his position in Husk's lap. Yes, his lap. He was lounging on his couch, and his clingy and possessive friend had opted to magic himself sideways on his lap rather than on either side of him. Husk's heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest like the traitor it was. "Something about an Overlord harassing you about me? Tell me, do I need to off someone?"

...Ah, right. No time to panic about his attractive best friend being on his fucking lap. Time to make sure said best friend didn't go start unnecessary shit.

"Nah, I can handle it", Husk said, and carefully wrapped his arms around Alastor's waist to support him. He was extremely aware of every part of him that was touching Alastor. He as doing his level best to ignore everything it made him think or feel.

Alastor squinted at him and his grin sharpened. "Truly? Hmm… You could still satisfy my curiosity by telling me who it was. The rumor mill can't agree on a name."

Of course it couldn't. Valentino likely started the rumor himself to get Husk in trouble for defying him, but wasn't stupid enough to frame a specific person – he had probably started rumors about every single Overlord, himself included. Not that it worked as intended, as Alastor was a lot more keen on murdering the asshole bothering Husk than entertaining the idea that Husk might be working against him now – there was enough trust between them that Alastor had probably dismissed the entire concept the second he heard it.

Alastor was out of his fucking mind, however, if he thought Husk believed for a moment that he wanted to just "satisfy his curiosity". No, the fucker wanted a name, an address, and an estimate of the enemy's defenses so that he could plot murder.

Not gonna fucking happen.

"I seem to have forgotten", Husk said, and smirked. "Must not have been particularly intimidating a person. I don't see why you would need to waste your fucking time with them."

Alastor looked like he wanted to argue his point, so Husk frowned at him. "No. Listen. If they actually harass me, I'll let you know, okay? But as it is, the fucker just made an offer that I declined and that was that. This was fucking expected and I'm surprised it took this long. It's not a big deal."

They stared at each other in silence. Husk could see Alastor's mind working a mile a minute, until his red eyes fixed on a spot on Husk's forehead instead of his eyes. No, a bit lower. Between his eye-

Oh.

"You'll tell Rosie", Alastor said, snapping Husk out of it. "If something happens, like you disappear or…"

The unsaid word hung in the air between them like a tangible presence.

'Die.'

"...I'll know where to go", Alastor finished.

Ouch. Fuck. Yeah, that was a low blow, but fair enough.

Damn it.

"Okay. Yes, I'll tell Rosie."

Alastor's arms tightened around Husk's shoulders, and Husk pulled him close. Yeah, they could certainly cuddle for a bit for no particular reason at all.

Fucking bugs and tigers and shit.


	22. What is this bushwa?

**A/N:** Prompt by P-lom:  
How about Alastor's POV of one of these scenes?:  
Ch.8 (where Husk freaks out and goes to the bathroom because Oh Noes He's In Love!)

As the prompt states, this happens during Afterlife chapter 8.

* * *

Husker was behaving most strangely.

Alastor had been in the middle of a riveting tale of how he had interrupted Vox's little picture show the other day, when Husker quite suddenly went wide eyed and slack-jawed on a completely unfitting part.

Contrary to what most people seemed to think, Alastor did, in fact, pay attention to others when he was talking. He was paying attention most of the time – one didn't survive decades in Hell AND make their way to the top of the food chain if one was inattentive.

As such, he interrupted himself and watched his friend's unexplainable internal struggle, awaiting the conclusion with no small amount of intrigue. Since Husker's face was mostly portraying him staring at nothing with blank eyes, Alastor's gaze drifted to Husker's paw, where a fork was dangling in a rather precarious grip due to Husker's inattention to his surroundings. Hmm, it was only a matter of time before-

Clink!

There they went.

Husker startled back into reality, blinked a few times, and then gave Alastor a strange look. It lasted for maybe a second before Husker's face assumed his poker playing face – did he honestly think that worked on Alastor in the first place? – and that lasted for even less time before a poorly faked look of annoyance took it over.

Something was very, very wrong.

"Husker, is somethi-" Alastor started, but Husker interrupted him – how rude – by swearing loudly and promptly excusing himself to go freshen up, leaving Alastor staring at his retreating back in confusion.

As if this was about the sauce stain. Whatever _this_ was.

Alastor continued eating in pensive silence while waiting for his companion. In a way the pause in conversation due to Husker's absence was a good thing, because Alastor often ended up eating cold food after Husker was long done simply because he spent the meal happily chatting away instead of eating. One could not talk and eat at the same time, after all.

Regardless of the blessing side of it, it was worrisome that he had the time to finish his meal before Husker returned. He hadn't managed to come up with anything to explain Husker's behavior either – his tale hadn't included anything that he knew might upset his friend, and Husker had been perfectly normal the entire time before their meal.

It was a mystery.

"You took a while", Alastor said, glanced at the once again pristine white fur that he would love to run his fingers through after the meal if Husker was amenable, and then looked back up at Husker's face. "That must have been a persistent stain."

Again, as if this was about the stain. But they could pretend a little to ease Husker into talking.

"You wouldn't even believe it", Husker muttered, and walked over to his seat. His eyes dropped to his plate of cold food, and Alastor wasn't sure whether to regret the diminished pleasure the meal would provide now – not that Husker was likely to care – or to feel petty glee that for once it wasn't him who had said displeasure.

Alastor hummed a purposefully vague affirmative, and waited.

Judging from the way Husker's wings twitched and his eyebrows knitted together, he knew what their current game was. Good.

And then, in an unexpected move, Husker picked up the plate and took it to the sink in a clear sign of… of rejecting the food.

Alastor's thoughts and worries came to a screeching halt.

What was going on? Husker did not- This wasn't something that was supposed to happen! Just because the food was _cold_-

No. No, no, hold it. This wasn't about the food.

Although he did now wonder if Husker hadn't liked it. Had it been too spicy? Was it-

No. This was _not_ about the food, and he could be offended about it later.

"Thanks for the grub", Husker said, wearing an infuriatingly good poker face now, after which he made an obviously exaggerated show of looking at the clock on the wall. "Sorry not sorry for kicking you out, but I have places to be."

Places to be. Hah! Absolute bushwa! He would not just dump perfectly good food and abruptly kick Alastor out if he simply had _places to be_. Not to mention that he would have said something before their meal if he was on a schedule.

Absolute. Bushwa.

Alastor appeared in front of Husker and smirked at the startled flinch. "Hah! You slay me!"

This close, he could hear Husker's heart rate pick up. Whether it was the fright or because he was lying right through his teeth...

"Where are you off to? I could drop you there", Alastor said, narrowing his eyes at his dear friend. This was Husker's cue to spill.

But instead… "No need to, it's nearby."

How dare he. How rude. Why was he not playing along? He knew how this went!

No, Husker was just standing there, wings tightly folded, ears turned back, tail sweeping the floor, giving Alastor a look that feigned calm indifference so well that if he wasn't actively viewing the other tells he would be fooled.

...Fine then. At least he would have the time to think of a suitable way to make Husker feel bad about the wasted food at a later point. Perhaps a meal he knew Husker wouldn't care to eat? Or a visit to the Cannibal Colony? There were options.

Alastor didn't look at the plate at the sink, but he was painfully aware of it anyway.

He also kept his eyes away from Husker's chest fur that he was apparently not going to get to pet today.

Most importantly, he kept his mind away from the endless well of concerned questions he had that Husker didn't want or deserve right now.

"Alrighty then", Alastor said, and turned around to head for the door. Purely for the dramatics, of course. "I expect answers the next time."

There had better be answers the next time.

"Abyssinia."


	23. Bad influence

**A/N**: Prompt by Silverfliesinbluesugar:  
Alastor dabbing

Challenge accepted! ;)

This chapter happens after they got together but before they leave the hotel.

* * *

Husk was so fucking done with all of this motherfucking bullshit.

He just wanted one damn normal ass day at the hotel, but nooo, no no no, of course that was too fucking much to ask for.

The problem at hand?

There was a huge fucking hole on the wall of his bar, and the furniture on that side of the room was either upended or in pieces. Outside of the hotel was a small, patched up steampunk blimp that was basically made out of cannons.

Fucking great. Such a joy. Enemy ships always put a spring on his damned steps. Could everyone see him jumping out of joy? Because he was jumping out of fucking joy.

He sighed deeply, got up from his stool, and slapped a paw on the radio behind the counter. "Al. Just in case you're unaware, the snake fuckface wants your attention. I know you like ignoring him, but he blasted a fucking hole on the wall, so if you could send him packing it'd be great."

He didn't bother waiting for a reply. Instead he picked up the small megaphone from under the counter and resigned himself to the bullshit that came next.

"Niffty, come here!" he yelled as he walked over to the hole in the wall. He turned the megaphone on and lifted it to his mouth. "Hey, asshole in the blimp! Stop shooting, we-"

Niffty appeared by his side. He grabbed a gentle hold of her head and lifted her up. She dangled on without a complaint. "-have children in here."

He saw Sir Pentious lean towards the windshield of his blimp to squint at them, and then watched his mouth flap. Husk rolled his eyes and lifted the megaphone again. "Use the damned speaker system, moron."

"_Watch your uncouth language, pussycat!_" came the reply once the idiot turned the speakers on. "_I'm uncertain if I believe that young lady to be a child, for that matter!_"

"She is a child", Husk said with a straight face, and then held the megaphone out for Niffty.

"I am a child, good sir!"

Sir Pentious kept staring at them, disbelief and uncertainty waging a war on his expression. Whatever, as long as he was preoccupied for any amount of time and thus not actively wrecking the hotel, they were good.

And then Alastor finally showed up before their bluff could fall through. He laid a hand on Husk's shoulder as he materialized next to them, and Husk frowned at him. "About the fucking time. I was starting to think I'd have to fucking fly up there to keep the bitch busy."

"That would have been a sight to behold", Alastor said merrily, and the three of them turned to look at Sir Pentious, who was now rather happily giving Alastor the good old fashioned Supervillain Speech. He ended it with a bizarre little pre-victory dance that he topped off with a motherfucking dab of all things. The stupid fucking pose had been all the rage with the imp kids a few years back, and Husk had been completely ready to never see it again. But this was Hell, so what the fuck had he expected.

"You gonna go fuck him up now?" Husk asked, watching Sir Pentious ready the cannons again.

"Throw me?" Alastor asked, antlers already growing.

"You're such a fucking show-off", Husk muttered, but dropped Niffty down and handed her the megaphone. He then let his demonic side bleed some additional strength into his core, grabbed Alastor by his upper arm and threw him up into the sky. Alastor laughed madly and shifted into the form of the Radio Demon during his flight, and when he reached the point where his ascension halted and the falling begun – and his coat hem flapped upwards in the wind just the right way to look like a vengeful God or some shit – he disappeared in a swirl of shadows and sigils.

Show-off of epic fucking proportions. But Husk had to admit that it was always a sight to see.

Husk leaned against the broken wall and watched as Sir Pentious was ripped from the control panel by long claws, after which the blimp shook, moved erratically, and occasionally exploded on spots. The cannons were somehow sucked inside of the blimp and then spat out in pieces. A few Egg Boys were thrown out of the windows and splatted unceremoniously on the ground.

Finally Alastor appeared on top of the blimp. He was halfway back to his usual form and looked impeccable as ever, as opposed to looking like he had presumably just killed someone. He grinned a bit too widely at Husk, and…

Copied the motherfucking victory dance Sir Pentious had done.

No. Do fucking not-

Alastor looked unbearably fucking pleased with himself before his face was hidden by his right arm while his left arm shot to an approximate of thirty degree angle towards the side.

He fucking did.

Husk sighed deeply, ran a paw down his face, and turned around to head back to his bar.

He was so fucking done with this entire motherfucking day, and he needed a damned drink.


	24. Discernible relations part 1

**A/N**: Prompts by Chysak and Spookydazechaos  
-An outsider POV on the boys would be super interesting! Like just random demons of the hotel crew or not seeing them interact, idk when in their relationship.  
-I would like to see an outsider pov of what the rest of hell thinks of these two and their relationship.

There are two more prompts that fit the "Outsider POV plz" category, so I decided to go wild with this and ended up writing a three-parter! : D Each segment will have a different POV character and all of them happen at a different point in the Afterlife timeline in a linear progression. I hope you're looking forward to seeing who else gets a turn here ;)

This first segment happens shortly after Afterlife ch7 (Facing the facts).  
The second segment happens shortly after Afterlife ch9 (Evasive Maneuvers).  
The third segments happens between Fine, Jackass! ch5 (That sure went fucking well part 2) and Bushwa ch21 (Recruiting).

* * *

Galeno watched his neighbour's house with a frown. Well, as much of a frown as he could make with a bat skull for a head. Internal frown.

Husk had been entertaining a worrisome visitor for a while now, at random intervals, and Galeno was… worried was a bit of a strong word, but it would have to do. He was worried about Husk.

Look, Husk was a perfectly decent guy. He kept to himself, he didn't throw trash into anyone else's yard but his own, he didn't bring mob bosses or drug dealers into the area, he didn't do loud parties, or otherwise cause trouble. He swore a bit much and tended to pass out in the nearby ditches, but that was practically no inconvenience at all by Hell's standards. Galeno had liked the grumpy cat almost immediately after he moved in. He would have liked to strike a friendship with him, if he was perfectly honest, but Husk was… anti-social, to put it lightly. As in, no amount of friendliness could make Husk reciprocate it in kind, and Galeno had tried everything he could think of.

That is, reciprocation didn't happen with Galeno at least. It seemed that the Radio Demon, of all the damned denizens of Hell, was having much better luck. And that was what had him worried.

Was it actually friendship – or a dalliance for that matter – that was kindling between the two? Or had Husk entered into a deal and the Radio Demon just liked to visit his underlings? Or did one or the other demand a physical prize for their end of the deal?

The nature of their relationship was hard to decipher between Husk's unwaveringly grumpy behavior regardless of the circumstances he found himself in, and the Radio Demon rarely actually using the door or otherwise hanging outside of Husk's house so he could be observed. All Galeno had was his superior bat hearing picking up the high frequency radio interference radiating from Husk's house whenever the Radio Demon was around, and his observations of Husk's behavior afterwards if Husk came out of the house. So far Husk hadn't seemed to have been harmed by any of the encounters, so while Galeno was worried he was also starting to get cautiously optimistic.

His skeletal ears twitched when the radio noises abruptly ended, signaling the Radio Demon vanishing from the scene. He waited about a minute before going outside to putter about his front yard with a gardening magazine in his claws as his alibi, waiting hopefully.

This time his vigilance was rewarded: Husk exited his house a couple of minutes later and walked down the road, passing Galeno's house. Galeno waved at him casually, like he always did, and after a moment of hesitation on Husk's part received a lazily half-lifted paw and a small quirk of lips in return.

A smile. An actual smile. Husk only did casual smiles when he was in a good mood.

The Radio Demon had put him in a good enough mood to smile at his neighbours.

Galeno watched Husk's retreating back, and felt most of his worries melt away and get replaced by more cautious optimism.

Perhaps the Radio Demon being a part of his neighbours afterlife was a good thing after all.

ooooo

Rosie felt the shift in her tea room's atmosphere when her dear friend appeared right on time for their recently restarted tradition of Sunday coffee. He was punctual as always, which was one of his charming qualities that balanced his otherwise chaotic nature nicely.

Said chaos had been particularly dominant as of late because of, hmm, relationship problems, one could put it.

Rosie sincerely hoped that this week was different from the previous two as she picked up the delicate silver tray that had their coffee cups and treats on it. She turned around and laid her nonexistent eyes on Alastor to judge the situation at hand.

Alastor was seated at the coffee table and holding his noticeably disheveled red head in his hands, not even pretending to be alright this time.

His attempt to find Husk and fix whatever was wrong between them must have gone terribly. Not that Rosie was surprised, as she had a very good idea what was wrong, even if she respected Husk's right to keep quiet about it enough to follow his lead and not tip Alastor off.

Her poor, helplessly clueless friend.

"Good afternoon, Alastor", she said, regardless of the fact that Alastor's afternoon was clearly not that good.

Alastor sighed, visibly collected himself, and then straightened his back to put on a pretense of normalcy. His smile was forced and his eyes were missing their usual glint – despite his improved posture, he was still the picture of misery. "Good afternoon, my dearest Rosie."

Rosie set the tray on the table and handed Alastor his coffee cup and plate. "Did you find him?"

She poured the coffee and dished out a piece of meat pie for both of them.

"I did."

She took a seat and lifted her cup to take a whiff at the freshly ground and brewed coffee, while regarding her companion.

Alastor's smile was wobbling.

"I take it that Husk was unwelcoming?"

Alastor's claws clenched and ripped holes into her fine lace tablecloth. She would have him repair it later.

"Very."

He was unusually curt, but that told her more than an entire bookful of words could.

Rosie set down her cup and stood up. Even if she couldn't give Alastor the advice he desperately needed, because that would break the tentative trust Husk had in her as well as potentially break everything if she turned out to be wrong, she could still help him in other ways. She walked around the table to stand by Alastor's side.

"Would you like to be held?" she offered. She rarely did, but it was obvious her dear friend needed it, and it was all she could do.

Alastor nodded quietly, and she wrapped her arms daintily around his shoulders.

If Husk loved Alastor as much as she suspected he did, he had better get his act together soon one way or another and stop hurting him because of it. Else his next visit to her emporium would be decidedly unpleasant.

ooooo

"They're totally a couple."

Vox bristled and gave Velvet an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me", she said, and pointed at the gossip magazine that had an article about the Radio Demon's latest killing spree. "Alastor has never done this crap before. Two weeks of pure murder over one dead subordinate? Please! The cat guy is definitely his secret boyfriend."

Vox glared at the offending magazine that failed to even have a picture of Alastor himself and only had photos of the destruction he had left in his wake. The thing was full of speculation on why everything had happened and why it had stopped so suddenly, but nobody had any proof, much less actual answers. Hell, nobody had a damned name for the mysterious winged cat that Alastor had been seen with at times; increasingly so over the years.

Vox was bitter for multiple reasons.

He hated it when some random nobodies caught Alastor's attention when he had failed at it time after time. It was not fair! It was not right! It was bullshit!

He had seen the cat before, but had dismissed him as unimportant, or at most a regularly utilized minion. But Velvet was right about one thing: Alastor didn't flip like this over dead minions. So, the cat was important after all. Potentially very important even. Fucking bullshit!

And the worst part? There was no confirmation, but rumor had it that Lucifer would personally erase anyone who touched the cat now, since it was glaringly obvious that doing so set the Radio Demon off like nothing else, and Pentagram City was currently a very quiet and miserable place because of it. So Vox couldn't even get rid of the irritating feline if he didn't want not only the Radio Demon after him, but potentially also the King of Hell. Complete fucking bullshit!

"His name is Husker", Valentino's voice said from the doorway, making both Vox and Velvet turn to look at him. He entered the room, looking intently at a worn piece of paper that had clearly been folded multiple times and probably been carried around in a sweaty pocket. "A bird who is situated near Mimzy's place has seen him around a few times and has heard Alastor talk about him often. That's all I have right now, but I'll be looking into him more as soon as Alastor lowers his guard a little. It's too dangerous to poke around yet."

"Mimzy's place? Alastor takes him to see his little friends?" Velvet asked, looking way too happy with the news. "Hah! Totally boyfriends!"

Vox hated absolutely everything. "Shut up!"

Velvet burst out laughing, and Vox ripped the damned magazine from her hands and into shreds.

Fuck this Husker and his privileged feline ass!


	25. Discernible relations part 2

**A/N:** Prompt by Anon  
Outsider POVs of the Hazbin Crew figuring/detectiving out that Radiohusk is an actual Item? Yes I know Reaction POVs are so common, but it would be rlly cool. Their thoughts? Angel Dust & Charlie & Vaggie POVs included would be great if that's okay. TLDR Observations of the couple from Outsider POVs pls.

There's one more promp that fits the "Outsider POV plz" category, so one more part to go : D

This first segment happens during Afterlife ch13 (Peripheral vision).  
The second segment happens shortly after Fine, Jackass! ch7 (Mushiness of epic fucking proportions).

* * *

Niffty hummed happily to herself as she pushed the cleaning cart into the bar area. She was almost done with her duties for the day, only needing to mop the no doubt super sticky and icky bar floor and see if Husk needed any help with the trash or anything. Then she'd have the rest of the evening off to work on her writing, unless of course a disaster of some kind happened and nobody else could handle the cleanup. It was surprisingly common actually, but it was part of the fun working at the hotel!

"Hi Husk, hi!" she said as soon as she saw Husk looking in her direction with his usual grouchy demeanor. She waved at him and received a nod in return. Not minding the less than warm reception, she busied herself with filling a bucket with hot water and soap, and then dunked the mop in it and got started with un-stickifying the floor like the cleaning pro she was!

As she worked, she occasionally spared a glance at Husk, who was sitting lethargically on his bar stool and nursing a glass of something or another. It wasn't exactly an uncommon sight, but she had been seeing it more often lately, along with the very closed-off look in his eyes and the general feeling of offness about him. It was somewhat worrying, if she was honest.

She had asked him about his depressive behavior a couple of times already, but Husk had brushed her off and rather brusquely claimed nothing was wrong, so there was no point in asking again – she knew he'd start doing the "let's distract Niffty with a shiny object" strategy next if she pushed too much, and it worked a little too well and made her forget there had been anything wrong at all. It was better to remember than to forget, so she tried to avoid it when she noticed the pattern.

It was really a huge shame they were not close enough for Husk to open up to her, which to be fair was the case with everyone other than Alastor as far as she knew. Not for a lack of effort on her part! She was always friendly with Husk whenever Alastor brought them together, but Husk had the habit of closing off and pulling away whenever she felt like she was finally making headway. She didn't know how Alastor had managed to befriend him, but it was obvious to anyone with at least one eye that Husk and Alastor simply adored each other. That said, it was actually kinda odd how little time they spend together, despite living in the same house and everything.

But Alastor was very busy these days, so maybe that was it.

Niffty didn't think she had seen Alastor idling for any amount of time ever since the hotel had gained a little positive press and received a flood of exciting new customers. He was always super busy either entertaining people, doing paperwork, having meetings with Charlie, fixing up the hotel, fending off disruptive folks, managing the press, or causing mayhem. His usual boredom was long gone and it was very very nice to see him so happy!

But for some reason the opposite was true for Husk and Niffty didn't know how to help. Maybe she should ask Alastor for tips? He knew Husk the best after all. Then again, he _was _busy...

She spotted a dark red and sticky looking stain on the floor. Was that red wine? That was red wine! Oh no, the nice wooden floor would be discoloured if she let it sit!

Niffty proceeded to forget about her previous line of thought entirely, as she had more pressing matters to attend to.

ooooo

"Look, I'm telling you they're behaving differently and it's really fucking obvious", Angel Dust said, and nudged Vaggie's arm, which she pulled away from his infuriatingly long reach. "They're gay as fuck."

Vaggie sighed, and looked over to the bar, where Alastor and Husk were leaning towards each other over the counter and having a conversation. It was true that they seemed closer than before – had ever since the week or so that they had been randomly missing – and Husk was certainly happier than she had ever seen him be, but she had pegged Alastor as aroace within a couple of months since he invited himself to the hotel. He was just way too uninterested, clueless, prudish and obviously touch repulsed to be anything else – discounting his own need to touch everyone and everything at all times, regardless of peoples' damned boundaries. She was pretty sure that was just him being the biggest asshole on this side of Hell.

"I'll give you Husk", she said after a moment of observing the pair. "He's making eyes at Alastor for sure, and the way he checks all kinds of people out and talks shit isn't subtle. He's either bi or pan. But no way is Alastor gay. If he was into anyone, he could damn well have them one way or another. The fact that he isn't doing that kind of thing at all speaks volumes. He's not interested in sex or relationships."

"Listen, you useless lesbian, my gaydar is supreme. Husk is fucking flirting and Allie there is not turning him down. Whether he's into sex or not, he's surely into the grumpy cat gramps at least. They're gonna be snogging before this month ends."

Vaggie narrowed her single eye at Angel, before turning towards their targets again. Husk had a smile on his lips and his body language was portraying relaxation and being comfortable with his company. His left paw was resting on the counter while his right was idly spinning a poker chip. Alastor was chatting up a storm on the other side of the bar, which had become a regular thing in the last few days; Alastor somehow had more free time than before, and he used it to hang out with Husk. Vaggie had heard from the other residents that they had a bit more peace and quiet now, so she assumed Alastor spent less time being a nuisance and instead dedicated that time to Husk.

Okay, when she put it that way she had to admit that Angel may have a point. Maybe.

Movement caught her attention, and she focused again. Alastor's hands had been waving in the air to emphasis whatever point he had in his tale, and once he was done with the gesturing his right hand was placed on top of Husk's arm on the counter. His fingers stroked the fur casually and remarkably gently, and Husk's expression softened into something Vaggie had never seen on his face before.

"Hah, gay!" Angel said in triumph and gave Vaggie a wide smirk.

She couldn't disagree.


	26. Discernible relations part 3

**A/N**: Prompt by Lagt  
How about purring from Charlie pov? Maybe In the hotel Charlie is walking around having a nice chat with Al or husk then the other appear and husk starts purring so loud that Charlie is like "what is that noise?" And husk fluff his tail in embarrassment?

This is the last "Outside POV" chapter, wrapping up the three-parter ;)

This first segment happens right after Bushwa ch10 (His magician).  
The second segment happens during Afterlife ch17 (Nobody else but you), right before the serenade war segments.

* * *

Charlie held out her arms to accept a box of supplies from Husk, and then waited for him to pick up a larger crate himself before heading for the front door of the hotel. Dazzle ran ahead of them to hold the door open, while Razzle stayed by the car to keep an eye on the rest of their things – as much faith as Charlie had in the inner goodness of sinners, she also knew that theft was common and nothing should be left unguarded for any amount of time.

"Thank you again for your help, Husk", she said happily and smiled at him. "This goes so much faster with an additional pair of arms."

"Yeah yeah", Husk said with a glance in her way. "No problem, kid. Nobody was at the bar anyway and the fuckers can damn well wait a fucking minute to get their morning booze even if they pop there while I'm busy elsewhere."

Charlie laughed at Husk's gruffness, and continued on with an extra bounce in her steps that she always got when someone was being helpful basically of their own free will. It meant her encouraging speeches about Being There For Others were working!

"I know that look", Husk said, tone warning now. "If you burst into a fucking song-"

He abruptly cut himself off, and Charlie gave him a confused look. His eyes were locked into something in the direction of the stairs, which prompted her to look there as well.

Alastor was descending the stairs with one of their guests, listening to whatever the other sinner was saying. His eyes flicked to her and Husk, and he gave them a brilliant smile.

And suddenly a low rumbling sound came from Husk's direction, almost causing Charlie to drop her box in surprise. It did make both of them stop in their tracks in shock.

...Was that-

Charlie inhaled sharply in pure glee as she turned to look at Husk, whose fur was fluffing up and wings were ruffling. "Did you just purr?"

"Shut up!" Husk said, ears turning backwards. He was glaring at her, but it was obvious to her that it was more about embarrassment and less about anger.

"You did!" she said, ecstatic. "You saw Alastor and you started pu-!"

Husk's tail slapped her mouth, startling her again – she fumbled to catch the box she very nearly dropped this time.

"Charlie, listen", Husk said, glaring at her. "Not a fucking word to anyone. Give me all the starry eyed fucking looks you want, but if I hear about this from Angel or Niffty, I swear to fucking god Alastor's bullshit will look like child's play compared to the hell I can make this place become."

Charlie stared at him in shock. Now, she didn't know what "make this place hell" was supposed to mean – probably another sinner thing – and she was almost certain nobody could outdo Alastor in... mischief... but she wasn't one to doubt people when they talked about their aspirations and accomplishments. So perhaps he could, even if the context sounded less than favourable...

She saw Husk's eyes focus on something behind her before his expression softened again, and the smile came back to her face.

Someone who loved another that much wouldn't really do anything truly horrible, she was certain.

But she would keep his purry little secret anyway, if only to set a positive example with her behavior.

"Oh for fuck's sake, quit the fucking grinning already!"

ooooo

Mimzy set her glass of whiskey down and rolled the cigarette holder between her fingers while looking at her friend.

Alastor was talking a mile a minute about Husk, the hotel, Husk, cooking, Husk, the broadcast he wanted to do, and of course Husk.

He had been talking about Husk from the moment they met, and it had only increased over the years. And now that the two were finally actually a couple instead of being stuck in the weird dance that Alastor had acted infuriatingly clueless about for decades, he was that much worse.

For example, Alastor had always been fixated on Husk's fur and had seemed incapable of keeping his hands to himself whenever he brought the cat to her club. But now it was all "it's luxuriously soft and did he mention yet that he had the privilege to brush it, oh and he was going to spin the loose fur into yarn and knit a sweater from it?"

It was half nauseating and half the most precious thing on this side of Hell. The sweater part was gross, but she wasn't going to ruin his questionable fun with criticism. She would, however, promptly get rid of any knitted gifts from him from now on. She loved the perfectly sized, comfortable woolen socks he made her every few years, but she did not want Husk socks.

Alastor took a break from his chatter to have a drink, and Mimzy seized her chance to get an edgewise word in.

"Yes, that was very sweet of him", she said, and pointed at Alastor with her cigarette. "You should consider a few romantic gestures of your own at this point."

Alastor's ears perked in interest and she would have been able to read the questions from his gorgeous eyes even if he hadn't voiced them.

"What do you mean? Was that a romantic gesture? I'm afraid those kinds of things tend to fly right over my head."

Oh, she was well aware of that. It had taken her an infuriatingly long time to make Alastor realize her own feelings for him all those decades ago, only for him to decidedly turn her down time after time. If only he had told her he was into men and it wasn't about her, she might have resented Husk less when she figured out what was going on…

Well, that was in the past. Now she had a chance to make it up to Husk – even if he didn't know there was something to make up for – and to help her beloved friend navigate an actual romance. He was woefully incapable of doing it himself, after all, so he could use all the help he could get.

And she was an expert.

Mimzy smiled, uncrossed her legs so she could cross them again in a different order, and then leaned forward over the table. "I know, sweetie. Good thing you have me, ain't it? Because I have a lot of ideas for how you can properly woo that cat of yours~"

She reached into her cleavage and pulled out a folded piece of paper, gave a sharp snap of her wrist to unfold it, and then set to work on illuminating Alastor on all the ideas she had compiled after receiving the confirmation that the two dumb men finally had their shit together.

Even if she couldn't date this man herself, she could make sure the person he _was_ willing to date would have the best time. Never let it be said that she was a sore loser.


	27. Sleep talking

**A/N**: Prompt by MudTrash:  
"Sleep talking Husk" Like It's one of the nights Al and him are laying together and Husk starts mumbling nonsense and like it takes Alastor a second to realize he's still asleep. But then after he realizes he tries to see just how well of a conversation Husk can hold with in his sleep and it's just like Pure grade A fluff

This chapter happens sometime during their stay at the hotel.

Fun fact, my older sister sleep talks all the time and will absolutely hold a short conversation (but also shut up if you tell her to go back to sleep, hehe), so this is partially based on the stuff she has pulled ;)

* * *

Alastor hadn't intended to venture out of his own room and into his sheik's tonight. Husker had been drinking rather heavily in the evening, and that tended to result in one of the following: either he passed out and was completely and utterly unresponsive until the morning – which reminded Alastor way too much of the time he died, and made for a very unnerving night of constant paranoia – or he was restless the entire night, tossing and turning and mumbling and snoring. Neither option was optimal for cuddling or sleeping, so spending the night was largely pointless.

However, when Alastor found himself lying in his own bed and discontentedly staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping for closer to two hours, he was more than ready to consider other ways to use his time. He had had a busy day and his mind plain and simply refused to shut down to allow him to relax, so it didn't look like sleep would be coming to him anytime soon if he kept on doing what he had been doing so far; that is, actively trying to sleep. If he was going to spend the night staring at something while not sleeping, that something may as well be Husker instead of the ceiling. He was much nicer to look at and soft to the touch.

Mind made up, Alastor magicked himself into Husker's room, and found that tonight seemed to be the restless kind: the blanket was halfway on its way to the floor and partially tangled around Husker's legs, and Husker had an arm thrown over his eyes and was muttering something unintelligible under his alcohol laced breath.

Alastor looked at the scene with a measure of amusement for a moment, before stepping forward and gently untangling and then folding the blanket over Husker's feet and calves. Finally he climbed into the bed and cuddled up to Husker's fluffy chest, burying his nose into the soft, white fur.

"I do hope you won't flail too much, my dear", Alastor mumbled quietly into the fur, and ran his fingers up and down Husker's side.

"If you take the rats out I won't", Husker replied, and his tail flopped over Alastor's legs and curled loosely around an ankle.

…What?

"Rats?" Alastor asked, and stilled his petting in his bafflement.

"In the drawer", Husker said.

This did not help in having the conversation make any more sense.

Alastor lifted his head from its pleasant resting place to look at Husker's face. The arm thrown over his eyes was still there, which prompted Alastor to prop himself up on one elbow and use his other hand to carefully lift said obstacle away from Husker's face. Husker's eyes were peacefully closed and the arm Alastor was holding up was completely limp.

Husker was very much asleep. Just talking despite the fact.

"I see", Alastor said, and stifled a laugh. He set the arm down by Husker's side and made himself comfortable again. This could be entertaining. "Why are there rats in the drawer?"

Husker's arm draped itself over Alastor's waist. "They were noisy."

That made delightfully little sense.

"They can be", he said, and scratched Husker's side. "So you want me to take them out? Do you mean outdoors or kill them?"

"Yes."

If Husker had been awake, the reply would probably have been purposefully vague and sassy, but as it was Alastor suspected that multiple questions at once had been too difficult for Husker to grasp. He didn't know which question the reply was meant for, but he honestly didn't think it mattered much anyway.

He snickered into Husker's fur. "Consider it done. Anything else?"

Husker made a vague sound and stretched a little in response to the scratching. He gave no actual reply.

"Husker, do you require anything else?"

"Paint, I guess", Husker said, and Alastor couldn't stop the undignified 'pfft' that came from his efforts to stop the laugh that attempted to come out. He buried his face more firmly into Husker's chest and his shoulders shook from quiet laughter.

It took him a moment to regain his bearings – this entire situation was way more amusing than it had any right to be. It was probably because it was in the middle of the night. Everything tended to be funnier in the middle of the night, especially if one was trying to not wake someone else up.

"I-" His voice cracked a little, and he cleared his throat. "I can most certainly provide that. What are you painting?"

He found himself greatly anticipating the answer.

"The floor. Fucking rat prints."

Alastor spent another good moment wheezing into Husker's fur. If Husker wasn't passed out due to alcohol, he would have certainly woken up because of his antics by now.

"I see, damned rodents", Alastor said as soon as he was able. "Which colour do you fancy?"

"Red."

"Oh, that's an unusual choice for a floor. Why red?"

"You can camouflage better."

Alastor lost it completely and no amount of muffling was enough to silence the raucous laughter. Predictably, Husker startled awake, flailed in confusion for a second, and then swore a blue streak at his hysterical companion.

For a few moments, there was glorious pandemonium.

Eventually the chaos wound down to Alastor giggling between catching his breath, and Husker with an arm slung over his eyes giving him tired, nauseous sounding death threats.

"You're so fucking dead, you asshole", Husker muttered. "I'll use your moronic fucking deer skull as a tankard tomorrow."

"I'm sure you will, darling", Alastor said laughter in his tone, propped himself onto his elbows, and dropped a kiss on Husker's nose. He was sure Husker would interpret it as apologetic and feel less inclined to pout later. "For now, try going back to sleep. I promise to be quiet, and tomorrow I might even explain what happened."

With a final chuckle, Alastor lowered himself onto Husker's chest again and nuzzled his face into the soft fur. If Husker sleep talked more during the night, Alastor didn't know – finally feeling relaxed and comfortable, he was lulled to sleep by the mumbled, half-assed swearing in no time at all.


	28. Neglect and jealousy

**A/N**: Prompt by Bifoxter:  
So I was thinkin jealous Husk. Like Rosie or Mimzy or some other just take up al's time and he can't give husker attention cuz he's busy

This chapter happens a month or two before Afterlife ch13 (Peripheral vision).

I'm slightly cheating here, cause I'm pretty sure the prompter would have wanted jealousy during their romantic relationship, not before it. But I don't see Husk being very jealous when he finally has Al where he wants him (and Al is paranoid about Husk being unhappy and isn't likely to let this kind of a situation happen again) so this fits better.

* * *

It was getting un-fucking-bearable.

Husk watched the lobby from his position behind the bar, eyes pretending to scan the entirety of its clientèle when in actuality he only had his eyes on one person in particular.

Alastor, obviously.

A new person had checked in this morning, and Alastor had glued himself to the person's side as soon as she had finished signing the papers. Husk had barely caught the pen as it went flying from Alastor literally grabbing the civet-looking creature and forcing a tour of the hotel on her, with nothing more than a "I'll take it from here!" given to Husk.

The sad, absolutely pathetic thing was that those five words were the most interaction between the two of them in almost a week, discounting the morning hugs. He had been feeling increasingly lonely and neglected even longer than that, too – about two months, he wagered. Husk was so desperate for Alastor's attention at this point that he wasn't sure whether to cling to those words like a lifeline or to feel even worse off than before because of how inadequate they felt.

He had the very unfair, thoroughly fucking stupid and childish and unnecessarily violent need to insert himself between Alastor and the civet woman and tear her to shreds with his own claws right in front of Alastor.

He was well aware that none of this was her fault. He knew taking his own pathetic pining out on her would be one of the most moronic decisions in the history of all things moronic. He knew it wouldn't solve anything. It would likely make things worse for him, even. Just think about the damage such a random and pointless act of violence would do to his psyche and self-worth. No thank you. He wasn't like that. He didn't fucking care if other people did shit like that, but he only ever got violent when it was warranted, not just for shits and giggles.

It would be the height of stupidity.

But he really, really fucking wanted to do it.

Just.

Right here, right now. Jump on the bar counter and pounce like the giant cat he was, over everyone's heads, right between Alastor and her, and then rip her into tiny fucking pieces. Make it a good blood bath. Make an entire fucking show of it.

Alastor would notice the hell out of him; he was into that shit.

But no.

Husk was the fucking worst, but not that kind of a scum. Never had been and never would be, no matter that he had ended up in Hell and everything and thus had every excuse for it.

Husk forced his eyes away from his best friend – fuck you, you, and _you _in particular, he liked swimming, Denial was fucking amazing this time of the year, shut the hell up – and grabbed a bottle of ale from the fridge. He extremely deliberately and carefully poured the contents into a glass tankard, put the bottle away into the stupid fucking glass recycling bin Charlie insisted on having around, and then took a slow, measured drink.

Denial or not, he had to admit that this situation was getting out of hand, slowly but surely. He needed to talk to Alastor. He couldn't go on like this, no matter how busy Alastor was at all times. That was honestly the root fucking cause of the problem: Alastor never had the time to talk. There wouldn't be a natural opportunity where Husk could casually bring up how lonely he was and how neglected he felt and how much he hated everyone else in the hotel now. It just wasn't going to fucking happen.

He needed to make it happen himself.

Husk put the tankard down under the counter and stood up. He was going to do it; just walk the fuck up to Alastor and insert himself into the conversation with the civet bitch. Maybe he'd even be courteous enough to not give into his urge to shove her the hell out of Alastor's proximity – and possibly the closest window for good measure – and instead he'd simply participate in the conversation. Or ask Alastor to talk to him later. It wasn't that fucking difficult. He knew it wasn't.

He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and-

Charlie walked into the room and made a beeline for Alastor.

Fuck damn it.

His wings and spirit sagged as Charlie effortlessly added herself into the group, and soon enough she had the civet woman hanging from her elbow as Alastor and her dragged the little bitch to who knows where, both radiating excitement.

As Alastor's coattails disappeared through the doorway, Husk slumped back onto his seat, resisting the urge to lay a paw over his aching heart.

This was just needlessly fucking cruel now.

Silently he reached under the counter and retrieved his ale.

Fuck everyone and everything.


End file.
